Little Sister
by Vanillasiren
Summary: Cassadines rarely stay "dead." When a new threat to the family emerges, Alexis seeks help from an unexpected source. Will the past, and the present, bind them back together - or tear them apart? Also featuring Davis girls and Samlexis! R&R please!
1. Prologue

*Author's Note: This fic will incorporate the recent reveal of a Valentin Cassadine as yet another of Mikkos' bastard children, but will also focus on the past of my favorite Cassadines. Also, underline text in the body indicates actual GH quotes.*

Little Sister

Prologue: The Binding

_She was the first person he ever loved._

The Cassadines were many things. Cold, manipulative, ruthless, deadly – these were just a few of the adjectives they might proudly, and accurately, use to describe themselves. Even their innumerable enemies spoke of them with a certain admiration, which only fueled their aristocratic pride.

This was a family whose members had always thought themselves to be above and apart from the ordinary dregs of humanity – a superior breed, so far advanced as to almost be a separate race. However, for all their airs and attitudes that made them a law unto themselves, they were still members of the larger human race. And human beings need to love, and be loved in return.

Mikkos Cassadine could not satisfy this need within his arranged marriage, so he sought the semblance of love with several mistresses. More interested in receiving love (or at least certain female attentions) than giving it, he largely ignored his children, legitimate or otherwise. His wife and oldest son were not bothered by this emotional distance, however, because they had each other.

Helena, his beautiful but frigid wife, lavished all the love she was capable of their eldest son, and Stavros returned her affection in kind. Neither had a great enough capacity to love anyone else, and though Stavros was wise enough to at least pretend he respected his father, he never asked for his attention. For this, Mikkos was grateful.

Stefan was another story. He was the second son, the one that Helena never wanted or needed, after she had produced the required heir. She alternately belittled and ignored him, and her favored son followed suit. The few crumbs of affection he received in his early life came from the succession of governesses employed on the Cassadine compound (Helena had a tendency to fire them frequently, ever watchful of her husband's wandering eye).

In particular, young Stefan remembered a beautiful and gentle young woman with vivid red hair and big brown eyes. She had a soothing, melodious voice, and he if he asked very nicely, she would sometimes sing to him. She would also hold him when he cried, which was not often. He became attached to her. Then one day his father and mother had one of their rare but intense shouting matches, and the governesses went away, to be replaced but an older woman who was diligent but unfeeling. Soon enough, he was old enough to longer need a governess, and he was again left with no one to love.

His father, whom he resembled more than his brother did, would occasionally toss him scraps of attention that passed for affection – a toy sailboat as a surprise gift (though Stavros soon destroyed it) or a night together at the opera, in which the lead female singer seemed oddly familiar, and he fell asleep after his father went backstage for what seemed to him to be quite a long time. However, these moments, few and far between, did little to ease the profound loneliness he felt he was drowning in. He struggled with this loneliness for the first ten years of his life.

And then, _she_ came to live with them.

They were told she was a cousin – sometimes she was called a distant one, sometimes not – the familial bond was never clearly explained, but both Stavros and himself knew better than to press their parents for details. He remembers his mother's coldness, how his father seemed almost nervous, and how his brother quickly picked up on his mother's distaste for this new addition, and copied it. The thing he remembers the most though, is her eyes: those big, brown, soft eyes that seemed so strangely familiar. Her hair and her skin tone closely resembled his, and his father's – perhaps they were not so distantly related? But he could not ask.

"Alexis Davidovich," was her name, the one spat out by her mother like a bitter pill or a vulgar curse. She was four years old, silent and wary, not daring to look directly at any of them. The first time she sat at the dinner table, she ate slowly and deliberately, her poise admirable, Stefan thought, considering her tender years. Her eyes were focused steadfastly on her plate.

Their meal was eaten in near silence, as usual. Sitting across the table from this newly discovered cousin, Stefan tried to catch her eye. It took a while, but when she dared to look up at him, he chanced a smile. She seemed startled by the expression, as if she had never seen it before, but gave him a small smile in return. Encouraged and emboldened, wanting to elicit a further reaction, he stuck his tongue out at her playfully – though really, he was too old for such foolishness. Her eyes lit up, and the laugh escaped her mouth before she could stop herself.

Silverware clanked loudly back onto the table, and a deadly silence fell over the room. Stavros looked amused, regarding Alexis with a sneer as she trembled and clapped a hand over her mouth, too late. Having been the recipient of too many of his mother's glares, Stefan did not wonder that the poor child shrank under his mother's eyes now.

"Go to your room," Helena said, her voice barely above a whisper, and all the more deadly for it. Alexis probably didn't even know where her room was in the large monstrosity they called a home, but she was smart enough to know that it was more important to simply get out of Helena's sight. It seemed he blinked, and she was gone, along with any remaining desire he had to finish his meal.

"May I be excused?" His voice seemed to ring loud in the room, which had been silent for several minutes after Alexis' abrupt departure. Both his parents looked up, surprised. Stavros merely sneered again.

"No," Helena snapped, at the same time her husband said, "yes."

This was unprecedented. Stefan looked between them, trying to fathom what to do, but they were staring at each other, apparently locked in an intense but silent argument. After a moment, Helena lowered her eyes and nodded, though her jaw was tight with anger.

"You are excused," his father said, and Stefan made a hasty exit.

He inquired with the servants and found the small room his mother had deigned to allow the young girl to sleep in. She was sitting on the bed, hugging herself, rocking back and forth as she cried. His felt something in him break for her.

"I'm sorry," he said, and she looked up, startled, drawing herself into an even tighter ball, as if she wanted to disappear. She seemed almost frightened, and he approached her slowly, as one might a wild animal. He sat down beside her on the bed.

"It's my fault you got in trouble," he explained, under her questioning gaze. "I just … I wanted to see you smile."

She gave him a watery smile in response to this, instantly eager to comply with his wishes. After that, it seemed only natural to put his arm around her. She started at first, and then relaxed. She leaned her head against his chest, her sobs subsiding as she wrapped her arms around him. "Stefan," she said, clearly and plainly, with not a trace of a childhood lisp. Those big brown eyes, divested of their tears, were now full of admiration, gratitude, devotion… and love.

In that moment, the heart that he pretended he didn't have melted, for her. He remembers thinking that the fates had aligned and brought her to him, so that he might have someone to love, and be loved by in return.

She spent the night, and several after that, sleeping snuggled up to his side. Sometimes she seemed to be having nightmares; she would cry out, "Mama, mama!" and he would mutter soothing words in Russian or Greek, stroking her hair until she settled back down. They had been told only that her parents were dead, but the specifics had been omitted. Alexis appeared to have some vague memory of her mother at least, if only in her dreams.

During the day, he played with her, tutored her, and read to her, soon astonished to find that she could already read in a limited fashion herself. He immediately recognized the keen intelligence between her shyness and fear, and resolved not to let it go to waste.

And so from the first moment at the dinner table on, they spent the majority of their time together. Helena might occasionally make some disparaging comment about his attachment to the "ugly little thing" as she called her, and Stavros seemed to delight in terrifying Stefan's little one, but he did his best to shield her from all that. Otherwise, they were largely content, left to their own devices. Oddly enough, it seemed to him as though his father approved of this arrangement, though he never stated anything explicitly.

He relished her devotion, her complete and utter faith that he was "the most wonderful person in the world." When she told him this, her expression quite serious, he laughed, and replied that she had not met nearly enough people to make that claim, but she only shook her head, and said, "I know," melting his supposedly nonexistent heart all over again.

He was her playmate and parent, conspirator and companion, teacher and protector, and the only family she could ever fathom laying claim to in this place. In return, she was his to mold, to cherish, to guard, to nurture, and to control.

Yes, to control. It was an integral part of their relationship from the start, and a part of her would always relish his control, his power over her, even on the increasingly frequent occasions when she chafed under it later in life. After all, they were Cassadines, and even the purest love could not exist between them without a hint or undercurrent of darkness, of domination. He demanded (and received) her complete loyalty and obedience, rewarding it with all the love and devotion he had in him.

_She was the first person he ever loved._

And so the binding tightened and strengthened between them, day by day, year by year. Neither could fathom anything ever breaking their connection. They were bound by their past, by their childhood. They knew each other better than any two siblings anywhere.

Their adult lives would be … complicated, to say the least. There would be betrayals, power struggles, accusations and arguments, but ultimately, always, reconciliations. And then something happened. Everything happened. The horrors of their past, the horrible night they'd vowed never to speak of – the ghosts were real, and they were gaining on _him_, if not on her, and he could not tell her the truth. It seemed to him as if he could not get her one daughter without sacrificing the other, the one who dwelt in the silences that suddenly lay heavily between them, oppressive and unnatural. The bindings were stretched taut, and the distance between them widened until it seemed insurmountable.

And so it seemed, in the face of his actions, his betrayal, her betrayal, the binding broke at last, and only death awaited him.

She attended his funeral. She mourned him, and moved on with her life.

This is the story that the world believed.

But this story was never true.


	2. Chapter 1

Little Sister

Chapter One: The Threat is Real

"Hey there, Natasha. How you been?"

When Alexis responded to the knock on her door at 7:00 A.M. on a Saturday morning, Luke Spencer's face was the last one she expected to see. For starters, his perpetual wanderlust took him out of town for months on end, so his presence in her life was spotty at best. And of course, Luke was a night owl and a habitual drinker who rarely got up before noon, so seeing him neither drunk nor hung over at this early hour was quite unusual. Though she might be his friend – for lack of a better word to describe their relationship – she couldn't recall a single time he'd ever come to her house. She knew he had to be here for an important reason. Well, at least one that was important to him.

"I've been … surviving," she said cautiously, taking in his uncharacteristically tidy appearance.

"Yeah, I heard you've been through some more rough patches lately. Sorry. Guess I can't count on that 'get out of jail free' card anymore, huh?" His wry amusement was not without a trace of sympathy, and to his credit, he refrained from making any "witty" comments about the scandal that forced Alexis out of office.

Alexis smiled tightly at him. "I'm afraid not." His expression grew more serious.

"You didn't deserve that, Alexis. Any of it. Really you didn't."

"Thank you," she said softly. As self-serving as Luke was, he wasn't heartless, and she knew he was being sincere. "But I don't think you came over here to offer your condolences on my very public fall from grace."

"Nope, not really. Listen, I've been gone for a while, and I know everybody thinks I just took off again because I felt like it, but that's not what happened –"

"Mom?" Like most teenagers (and Luke Spencer), Kristina Corinthos-Davis preferred to sleep in when she could. For her to be up at 7:00 AM on a Saturday was unprecedented, but she had heard voices in the living room, and her curiosity had gotten the better of her. Molly, typically an earlier riser, trailed behind, looking less bleary-eyed than her sister.

"Oh. Hello, Mr. Spencer," Kristina said. She felt slightly abashed to be standing there in her pajamas in front of a non-family-member, but she tried not to show it. Molly had no such compunctions, however, and greeted her mother's eccentric friend with a cheery, "Good morning!" Luke grinned at both of them.

"Kristina, I remember when you were just a little tyke, and I was trying to bribe you with candy. I thought your mother was gonna kill me." Alexis smiled at the memory despite herself.

"No, I was just going to maim you." Molly giggled, and even Kristina looked amused.

"And now, look at you. Both of you, all grown up, practically. It makes me feel … old."

"Well, you _are_ old," Molly said bluntly.

"Molly!" Kristina and her mother chorused. Luke chuckled.

"Natasha, I can see your youngest one inherited your impeccable sense of tact."

"Well, really, 'old' is a relative thing. I mean, when you think of how many billions of years old the earth is, and then the universe is even older, 'old' is kind of a difficult concept in terms of a single human life, it –"

"She does the babbling thing too? Talk about a chip off the old block …oh sweetie, don't worry about it," Luke said. Molly was far to amusing for him to even pretend he was insulted. "I've been called worse than that. Sometimes even by your mother. Did she ever teach you any of the Russian curses she knows?"

"Luke!" Alexis snapped, but she couldn't quite manage to keep the smile off her face. Loathe as she'd be to admit it, she'd actually missed Luke Spencer.

What an unsettling thought.

But he was here for a reason, she reminded herself. "Girls, why don't you go get dressed? I need to have a word with Mr. Spencer."

Kristina rolled her eyes, but complied, turning back to her bedroom. Molly lingered a moment, apparently wanting to ask Luke more about the Russian curses, but soon retreated under her mother's warning look.

"Now that you've thoroughly charmed my daughters – "

"Charmed? I wouldn't go that far, Natasha. They're about as easy to charm as their mother –"

"Suffice it to say, I know that's not what you came here for." She glanced back towards the girl's rooms, recalling the times they had eavesdropped on her conversations with Diane.

"Little pitchers have big ears?" Luke inquired, following her gaze. She nodded.

"Let's talk outside."

They moved out the patio. "Before my girls came in, I think you were about to tell me that your latest 'vacation' wasn't exactly voluntary. If that's the case, I think I know who was behind it. Just make my day and tell me you finally killed her this time?"

Luke grinned at her. She may have been a mother, she may have been a bastion of justice when she was the D.A., but he'd known Alexis, a.k.a. Natasha, for a long time. He knew she could be as ruthless and as deadly as any other Cassadine, when she needed to be.

He loved that about her.

"You might want to sit down for this."

Alexis perched on the edge of one of her patio seats. He sat down in the one next to her as she looked at him expectantly. Neither of them noticed the slight chill in the Autumn air, so intent were they on each other.

Her expression went from wary to incredulous to disbelieving as he told his story. She grew indignant at one point when Luke explained the escape attempt that involved taking Helena with him.

"For God's sake, Luke! Couldn't you have just left her there to die?"

"Oh come on, that would hardly be sporting. Besides, when she dies, I'm gonna be the one do it."

"Yeah, because you've been so successful at plotting her death in the past?"

"Hey, _we_ had a good plan, Natasha, remember? It-"

"Oh, never mind that. Luke, how can you be sure she's not making this up? This whole 'Valentin' story? I've been the keeper of the family secrets since long before I met you, and I've never heard of him."

"Really? I find that hard to believe. Not even a whisper?"

"Lest you forget, I didn't even know _I_ had the dubious honor of being Mikkos Cassadine's bastard until well into my adult life, remember? And whispers? Well, maybe one or two, but nothing specific. And I'm not saying it's impossible. I'd just take whatever Helena says with a very large grain of salt. Wouldn't you?"

"Well of course! Why do you think I'm here talking to you about it? I'd hoped you have some insight, or at least I could give you a heads up. But I'm telling you, Alexis, I've known the old bat for a long time, and I've never seen her this shook up. She's _scared_ of him. She's _scared_ of this Valentin guy! And if Helena's scared of someone, you know it's gotta be bad. I don't think she's blowing smoke. The threat is real."

Alexis swallowed. Sam had kept her last name as McCall, and her younger girls used her own adopted surname, as well as the names of their fathers. Yet it seemed none of them could escape the darkness of the Cassadine legacy.

"So what do you want me to do about it?"

"Do a little digging, Natasha. Do a little a battening down of the hatches. It's what you do, it's the role you've always played in your crazy family. Even Nikolas seems to think there's something to all this Valentin stuff, and you know he trusts Helena about as much as you and I do. And if you could get back to me with anything you find out? We're on the same side here. With the obvious exception, I don't want to see anyone get hurt by this guy."

Alexis took a deep breath. "Thank you for telling me all this," she said, and they both stood up. "I will look into it, and I'll get back to you with anything I find out, I promise."

Luke smiled. "I knew I could count on you, Natasha." He leaned down and pressed a brief, chaste kiss to her lips. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to the hospital to strangle – I mean check on – dear Niky's dementedly devoted old granny. Keep in touch."

After he left, Alexis stood there for a moment, nerving herself. She pushed open the door, and entered the living room, only to find her girls on the floor. Apparently, they'd had their ears pressed to the door, and had toppled backwards when she had opened it. She regarded them with a combination of amusement and disapproval.

"Hear anything good?"

"No, no, we were just –" Kristina began.

"We couldn't hear anything, mom. The door doesn't conduct sound well, apparently."

Kristina sighed, "Molly…" Then she looked at her mother pleadingly. "So since we didn't actually hear anything, there's really no need for a punishment, is there?"

Alexis regarded her Kristina pensively. Faced with this new threat, her mind was spinning, and curious daughters were the least of her worries. "I'll let it go …_ this_ time," she cautioned, as both her girls looked surprised but pleased. "Let's have some breakfast."

Having just escaped punishment, her daughters were smart enough not to ask any questions about Luke, and spent the time engaging in chatter about school. Alexis tried to pay attention, but her mind was far away, wrestling with a decision she'd been trying to make since Luke left. After all these years … could she even get in contact with him if she tried? Was it worth the risk, the pain?

_Batten down the hatches,_ Luke had said, _the threat is real_. And she was inclined to believe him.

"So can we, Mom?" Kristina asked.

"What?" She hadn't been paying attention, she realized guiltily. "Can you what?"

"Go with Sam to the mall today? Molly and me? She said she'd pick us up if it was okay with you."

"Didn't you just go the mall with Sam yesterday, Kristina?"

"Well yeah, but we didn't get to shop. And I know _you_ don't like us spending time with Sam, but –"

"You don't mom? Molly, asked, "Why not?"

"Kristina, I never said – don't worry, Molly – I _never_ said that." She let out a sigh as both daughters looked at her expectantly. Well, it wasn't as if she didn't trust Sam to keep them safe, and she _did_ need some privacy to make the arrangements, so.... "Alright."

Both her girls looked delighted, and dutifully cleaned their place settings. A few hours later, Sam came to pick them up. Of course, Molly had to babble about her 'mysterious' early-morning meeting with Luke Spencer, but Alexis just shook her head and smiled in response to Sam's questioning look, and told them all to have fun. "I'd love to come with, but I have some work on my pro-bono case that just can't wait." Sorry for the lie, as well as the time lost with her daughters, she hugged them all goodbye.

She waited until she was sure they were gone. Then she went to her bedroom and opened the small lock box that she had beneath her bed. In it was the most precious jewelry she owned, her family jewelry. From the maternal side, her mother's gorgeous two-piece sapphire necklace, and the sapphire ring. And then they were … the Cassadine pieces.

The ruby necklace Stefan gave her before he left for Milan.

"_This -- this reminds me of you." _He'd said.

"_This is beautiful."_

"_Mm-hmm. So was the countess it belonged to. She was beautiful but terribly serious."_

She chuckled. "_You're making this up." _

"_No, no. Her name was Katya. And while her sisters were falling in love and marrying dukes and counts, she documented the plight of the serfs."_

"_And the moral is?" _

"_Stop worrying so much about everyone else__,__ Alexis." _

"_Look who's talking." _

"_I want you to find happiness for yourself."_

"_I would never have survived my childhood without you," _she'd said softly, her eyes tearing up.__

"_I doubt that." _

"_You kept my spirits up." _

"_As you did mine." _

"_Oh, the lives we used to dream about." _

"_That's my point. It's not too late for either one of us." _

"_I love you with all my heart. You go, be happy." _

He embraced her.

"_I will." _

Alexis threw the necklace aside, biting her lip to keep silent. He had seemed so … at peace, that day. And when he'd returned almost a year later … all that contentment was gone. It wasn't _fair_. It wasn't supposed to be like that.

She took a deep breath and reached for the item she'd really been looking. Her Cassadine medallion. This too, would make the memories of her brother come flooding back, and, as she slipped the chain over her head, it was like a little death: so many scenes of love and pain flashing before her eyes that it left her breathless, almost dizzy.

She retrieved the ruby necklace and put it back in its place, locking it away with the remaining contents of the safe. Standing up, she headed to the phone, dialing the number of a commercial airline. She could not use the private family jets; she could not risk using Cassadine resources for this. Even Nikloas couldn't know.

She booked the flight with relative ease. The expense was considerable, but it didn't matter. Three days from now, for better or for worse, she would be in St. Petersburg, Russia.

_Responses to unsigned reviews:_

_Soapdemon34: That other fic you're referring to was a one-shot. So glad you liked it though. Consider it a "companion" piece to this one._

_amcgraw: Thanks for your review, hope you enjoy the latest!_


	3. Chapter 2

Little Sister

Chapter Two: Passages

Alexis didn't care if Michael was sorry. She didn't care if it was out of his control. It wasn't that she was unfeeling or unsympathetic; it was that she was practical. If only because he was not her child, she could see the ugly truth that Carly could not. Someone – one of her daughters – could get hurt by Michael, regardless of his intentions. The whole _point_ is that he can't control it. And Alexis knew all about uncontrollable rage. No limits, no boundaries.

She'd seen it before.

_Slipping through the door, seeing the shadowy outline of his profile, she smiles. She is ten, and happy her 16-year-old cousin is back from his day at school. She has been so lonely without him. She hopes they have time for a tutoring session. Her brow furrows, however, when she sees the bottle of wine on the table, and the full glass in his hand._

"Stefan, what are you doing? You're going to get in trouble …" _The rest of the words die in her throat as he turns to face her. It's not Stefan. It's Stavros, his eyes full of cold fury. She is frozen with fear. Then he smiles – a slow, chilling smile that slits his eyes and does not show his teeth._

"I don't think," _he says, advancing upon her, the drink still in his hand, as she slowly begins to back away, trembling, shaking her head, _"that I'm - "

_Lighting fast, he hurls the glass at her. She ducks to the ground, and the glass breaks against the wall, the wine spilling down on her like blood._

"-the one who's in trouble!" _Stavros concludes, stalking over to her, grabbing her arm roughly and hauling her up to eye level, laughing at her little scream of protest._

"Oh yes, little ugliness, you are in a great deal of trouble now!" _He twists her arm painfully, and she whimpers, her tears falling before she can stop them, wishing she wasn't giving him the satisfaction of seeing her cry. _"Now," _he leers, _"whatever am I going to do with you, you troublesome little-"

"Stavros, stop it!" _Stefan is two years his junior, smaller than his brother and not as strong, but he catches him off guard, knocking into Stavros with the force of his own anger. His fist connects with his brother's jaw, flooring him, but not for long. Stavros' eyes blaze with a fury even greater than before, and he leaps back up, ready for a fight. Knowing he can't win, Stefan grabs Alexis' hand, and they run._

_Stefan knows the secret passages of the house better than his brother. He leads Alexis to safety with him, and they hear Stavros pass by, shouting and cursing both their names._

"Are you alright? Did he hurt you?" _Her clothes are stained red, and there are shards of glass in her hair._

"No, it's just – it's okay, it's just wine – he was drinking, I-I thought he was you, oh, I'm so stupid Stefan, I should've _known_ you wouldn't –"

"Alexis you are _not _stupid. Don't ever say that." _He wipes away the tears she can't keep from falling, and hugs her to him. _"Shh, shh, little one, it's alright now. You're safe now, he won't find us in here. It's over."

Alexis winced at the memory. How could she compare Kristina's brother with her own? Michael's neurological issues were the cause of his rage. _He_ wasn't a soulless bastard without an ounce of regret. It wasn't the same; but still, in some ways, it was. And she'd be damned if either of her daughters went through even the mildest form of anything she'd had to endure a child.

That was why the girls had to stay away from Michael, until he was better. Let them hate her for it; at least they would be safe.

As safe as _he_ had kept her. Her damned medallion was like a millstone around her neck, dragging her down to the depths of her murky memories. It was a strange sentiment that made her put it on again, after all these years, but it felt necessary, and familiar – oh, _so_ familiar – like slipping on a second skin. As much as it was a millstone, it also felt like a talisman. And somehow, she could not face him again without wearing it.

Assuming this all wasn't going to be an exercise in futility, and he was actually still alive.

She started out of her reverie when her girls returned, late, chattering and laughing happily, several shopping bags carried among them. She put on her brightest smile.

"Wow! Did you guys buy out the whole mall?"

"Oh mom, relax, it was on sale," Kristina said.

"What was?"

"Everything!" They all looked so happy. How long would that last? Well, forever, if she had anything to say about it. She told the girls to put their new clothes away, and faced her eldest daughter, alone. She'd wait until Kristina and Molly returned to tell them all about her "trip."

Sam smiled hesitantly at her mother, and Alexis smiled back, more sincerely this time. "It looks like they enjoyed themselves."

"I did too," Sam said. "I really love spending time with them."

"I'm glad," Alexis said softly. And then of course, there was the inevitable, awkward pause. She often wondered if the air grew thicker between them in these moments, heavy with all the questions Sam wanted to ask, and all the answers she couldn't give her.

"That's … that's a pretty necklace, mom."

"What? Oh…" Alexis clutched at her medallion, cursing the twisted sentiment that had made her put it on. She could have waited to wear it, but _no_ … "Uh, thank you. It's … old," she said, choosing her words carefully, hoping not to pique her daughter's curiosity. Unfortunately, Sam's curiosity was already piqued about something else.

"So, Kristina and Molly said Luke Spencer came by the house early this morning. Is that, uh, normal?"

"For Luke to be up and sober before noon? Not really," Alexis said, try to deflect with humor.

"Why'd he come by?"

Alexis swallowed. "Oh well, you know, he was back from his latest 'vacation,' and I guess he just wanted to see how I was doing."

"Really, that was it? Because the girls said you talked to him outside, where they couldn't hear … no wait, I'm sorry," Sam said, as Alexis started to explain. "It's really none of my business, I'm being nosy… guess it becomes a habit when you're a P.I. Forget I said anything."

Alexis didn't really want any of her daughters to draw their own conclusions about her little chat with Luke, but at this point, their conclusions would have to do. There was no way she was dragging any of them into this unless she absolutely had to.

Kristina and Molly came back in. It was time.

"Girls, could you all please sit? I have something to tell you."

Something in her tone seemed to sober and silence them as they sat down.

"As you know, I've been doing pro-bono work," she began. Kristina looked away guiltily, but Alexis plowed on. "One of my cases involves an out-of-state witness, and I'm going to have to fly to him to conduct a deposition."

"Where?" Molly asked.

"Arizona," Alexis lied. She _hated_ lying to them. But it had to be done.

"How long will you be gone?" Kristina asked.

"Just a day or too, I promise. Three, tops."

Kristina's eyes lit up. "So we get the house all to ourselves. Awesome!"

"Hold it right there, missy. You are Molly are going to be staying at Wyndomere."

"Cool!" Molly said.

"Mom!" Kristina whined. "You're going to strand us on Spoon Island?"

"Oh for God's sake, you won't be stranded! The launch comes and goes every 15

minutes-"

"Why can't we just stay here? There's Viola, and Sam can come and check on us. Come on!"

"Kristina, this is _not_ open for discussion. You're staying with your cousin, and I expect you to show gratitude for his hospitality by being on your best behavior. Both of you. Is that clear?"

"Yes, mom," they chorused, one cheerful, the other sulky. Alexis nodded.

"Alright, good. Now, it won't be for three whole days yet, so it's not like you have to be ready right now." She'd already called Nikolas and given him the same story. He'd seemed distracted – they'd discussed the situation with Helena briefly – but quickly agreed to take his cousins in for a short time, saying that Spencer would be glad of the company.

"And I'm sure Sam can check on you just as easily over there. Now, it's late. Both of you, off to bed." They left.

"So … just a few days, right?" Sam eyed her mother.

"Just a few days."

"You seem kind of tense." One of the things that made Sam a good P.I. was her ability to read people. In this moment, Alexis wished she didn't have this talent. "Is this case stressing you out?"

"A little bit. But it's good stress, if that makes sense. It's much easier than worrying about any of my girls. And this case … well, it's a very good cause."

"Okay," Sam said. Something seemed off, but she couldn't put her finger on it, and she didn't want to pry. "Well, I guess I should go."

"Thank you for giving the girls such a nice day." She hesitated, then pulled her oldest daughter into a hug. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

Alexis sat back down on the couch, fingering the medallion. His words rang in her head.

"_We're a powerful team Alexis."_

"_Are you the only person on this earth I can trust?"_

"_Together, we can defeat Helena once and for all."_

"_You're ready to be a Cassadine again?"_

That last one made her shiver. That was after his return from Milan, when he'd grown … cold. She knew how cold he could be, how cruel. And conversely, how warm and kind. All the Cassadines had their darker sides, herself included. Some, like Stavros, just had more darkness than the others.

She would not put Stefan in the same category as his brother, no matter what he has done. She would _not_.

The next morning, she placed a call to Luke. She didn't tell him anything specific – hell, if she told him the whole truth, his head would probably explode – but she did let him know she's going to be doing some of the "digging" he suggested. He wished her luck and hung up.

A few days later, she brought the girls to Wyndomere. She had at least had the presence of mind not wear the medallion in front of Nikolas, knowing it will only bring up the questions she desperately needed to keep at bay. She received several, repeated reassurances from him - that guards would be on her children at all times, that Helena was deathly ill in the hospital, and anyway, even the secret passageways were guarded, so their was no chance of her intrusion. Finally, she kissed her family goodbye, leaving Molly and Kristina happily cooing over Spencer, who seems thrilled to be the center of attention. Then she headed to the airport.

Boarding went smoothly, and she was quite comfortable, having decided the least she could do for herself and her nerves was fly first class. She had put the medallion back on, and now fingered it nervously, an old habit resurfacing too fast. Though the safety of her girls was a comfort, she couldn't help but be apprehensive starting on her journey, a journey she knew must be taken alone.

But what Alexis didn't know was, she wasn't taking this journey alone. Someone was following her to St. Petersburg. She wouldn't know of it until much later, but even so, it was the person she least expected.


	4. Chapter 3

Little Sister

Chapter Three: Home

Sam _hated _doing this. Going behind her mother's back, questioning her integrity, violating her privacy, breaking her trust – the list went on the longer she thought about it. But try as she might, she couldn't shake the feeling that Alexis hadn't told her the truth. She needed to know, so she had enlisted the help of her two most trusted companions, namely, Jason and Spinelli.

First, she confided to Jason about her suspicions: "I just – I don't know, Jason – I feel terrible even thinking this, but I – she just seemed so on edge. You don't think…" she paused, not wanting to say it out loud.

"What?"

"You don't think she's meeting …. Jerry or something, do you? You don't think he's convinced her to help him, somehow?" It was her greatest fear, and she didn't think she could have voiced it to anyone else but Jason. He weighed her words carefully, as he always did.

"I don't think … I don't know. I mean, I suppose it's possible, but … I doubt it."

Jason's instincts were usually even better than her own, so his words gave her some comfort. "Yeah, well, I feel bad for even thinking it, really. Maybe it has nothing to do with Jerry at all. Maybe it's to do with that conversation she had with Luke-"

"Luke?"

"Yeah, I took the girls shopping, and they told me about how Luke came by in the morning and talked with her. They even went outside just so Kristina and Molly wouldn't hear. What do you think of that?"

"Well, I know they're friends. Maybe … it was something about Helena? I heard she kidnapped Luke and took him to Greece. He could have been passing along some information. Or, it could all be a coincidence, and the truth could be what she told you," he concluded, but his tone indicated that he thought this was a remote possibility.

"Yeah, but unfortunately, I don't think so."

"So you want Spinelli to see where her flight's headed?"

"Yes. I need you to be there with me, Jason. I need you to help me keep a clear head and decide my next move."

And now here they were, waiting anxiously while Spinelli babbled and blustered and went on his usual thousands of tangents, but nonetheless worked swiftly and diligently. Spinelli's speech and mannerisms could be grating, but he had a compassionate heart, a sincere desire to help, and a great deal of technological skill, all of which Sam needed right now.

"Ah, success! It appears the Goddess Mother's flight … is most definitely not headed to anywhere in the vicinity of Arizona," his shoulders slumped and his voice lowered, deflated. For his friend fair Samantha's sake, he had hope to allay her suspicions, but alas, it appeared her keen instincts had been correct. He started to babble an elaborate apology, and Jason cut him off.

"Spinelli." The word _focus_ was implied in his tone; he didn't need to say it. "Where is she going?"

"The motherland."

"The … motherland?"

"Ah, yes, the ancestral home of the Cassadine clan, so to speak. Russia. St. Petersburg, to be precise."

"Russia?" Sam turned to Jason. "Why would she be going there?"

"Alas, I fear with all my cyber skills, formidable though they may be, I cannot hope to fathom-"

"Spinelli, relax. It was a rhetorical question," Sam sighed. "Jason …"

He nodded, knowing her well enough to discern her intent. "Spinelli, can you book us a flight to St. Petersburg, please?"

Thanks to the Jackal's talents, he was able to get them tickets to a flight that was leaving in only a few hours. Of course, he had to do a few _mildly_ illegal things to procure such choice tickets, but anything for his friends.

"Jason, I need to make a few calls-"

"Me too-"

Their calls went as expected. Nikolas seemed suspicious, remarking what an odd coincidence it was that both Sam and Alexis would be out of town at the same time, but she just kept her voice level and asked him to tell Kristina and Molly she'd be back soon. Sonny was annoyed with Jason, but ultimately gave his blessing, and of course, Carly pressed stubbornly but unsuccessfully for details. In the end, though, they told everyone who needed to know, dashed back to their respective homes to pack a few necessities, and met at the airport terminal just in time.

As the plane began to take off, Jason reached for Sam's hand and squeezed it reassuringly.

"Sam, whatever this turns out to be, I promise you, I'm here for you all the way. Whatever you need."

She smiled and kissed him, lightly. As apprehensive as she was, it was comforting to know that Jason was once again by her side.

If Sam was apprehensive, Alexis was a basket case.

She paced the length of the small, ancient church, a place far off the map for a casual tourist, a place that normally only a native would know about. Coming to Russia had, in an odd way, felt like coming home – to a home she'd never known. The Cassadines were several generations removed from this land – Alexis had once described it to Ned as being "Russian by way of Greece" – but this was where their family had thrived, before Stalin, before the Iron Curtain, until the Revolution had forced them to flee.

She and Stefan had agreed on this exact place as a de facto meeting spot many years ago. She had sent out all the signals, gone through all the convoluted machinations he'd insisted on in the beginning. All these years, and she was still jumping through hoops for him.

But it was nothing compared to what she'd done when he "died."

_She approached the hospital bed, her emotions a dangerous whirl of hurt, pain, regret, sorrow, and anger. He face was burned, badly, but his gaze was lucid, and fixed on her._

"When Luke put you on trial," _she began without preamble – his face twisted contemptuously at the word 'trial' – "_You called me a liar. You said that … I loved you when it was convenient for me. Well, it wasn't always convenient, Stefan. It wasn't convenient when you put 'Timoria' in motion, it wasn't convenient when Helena was threatening to kill me after you cast me out, it wasn't convenient when I wanted to begin a relationship with Ned that might've gotten in the way of your precious plans, it wasn't convenient when I defended you after everyone thought you killed Chloe … and it certainly isn't convenient now. But I still … I still loved you, all those times. And I still do now."

"Yes, it's true," _she said, reading the disbelief in his eyes._ "I've followed the trail that you left for me, Stefan. The one beyond you framing me for framing Ned. The one that leads to Helena's plan to kill Emily, in the most gruesome, painful way possible, unless you did it yourself. I just – I don't know why you didn't – you didn't come to me, or Nikolas, or – haven't you learned by now that you don't have to take all the family's burdens on your own? I _knew_ it couldn't be just about money. Oh Stefan, _why_ didn't you tell me?"

"There's-" _He gasped, and tried again._ "There's more you don't know. You can't know."

"Don't tell me I can and can't do!" _she snapped, her voice rising, the tears spilling down. Angrily, she wiped them away._ "You don't get to do that anymore. Here's how this is going to work. I'm going to tell _you _how things are going to be."

_And she had proceeded to tell him her plan for faking his death. The paralytic, the burial, the fact that it would have to appear he committed suicide. The conditions – that he stay away from all of them, especially Emily. The secrecy – no one except she and he would know. The finality – that she would, never ever see him again. He would be dead to her._

_Famous last words. She should have known he wouldn't give her total control, even when she was scrambling to save his life._

_It was Stefan who came up with this elaborate contact protocol, should a new threat to the family emerge. And she had given in, as she always did. And it was Stefan who, behind her back, had arranged his "death" so Luke would be accused of his murder. She'd had to forge the "suicide note" from Stefan that Nikolas had received, in addition to being Luke's defense attorney. It still burned her that her brother had tried to get one over on her, after everything she had done just to keep him breathing._

_His resurrection and passage out of the country, the reconstructive surgeries he would receive later on, had all been arranged by paid underlings. She had received word he was alive and well, but she had never said goodbye._

_And she had never found out what it was he thought she couldn't know._

Well, maybe she was about to.

Sam watched as her mother paced the floor of the tiny church she and Jason had tracked her to, seeming restless, impatient. She had convinced Jason to let her observe Alexis alone. He was waiting close by, ready to spring into action at the first sign of trouble. The possibility that her mother was meeting Jerry Jacks was still in the back of her mind – but it seemed to grow more remote as time passed, as she watched and Alexis waited, repeatedly fingering the necklace Sam had admired a few days ago. She finally stopped pacing for a moment and held it up to the light, her expression unfathomable.

The sound of footsteps startled them both, almost causing Sam to topple out of her hiding place in the vestibule. She watched her mother turn, saw many different emotions flit across her face, none of which she could quite understand. As quietly as possible, she opened the door a little bit wider to afford herself a better view, and a man strode into her line of sight.

A man who was most definitely _not_ Jerry Jacks, Sam saw with relief. Even if he'd had plastic surgery on his face again, the height and the body structure weren't the same as Jerry's. This man had brownish hair in a shade close to her mother's. And the same color eyes, and the same complexion. Come to think of it, he resembled her in a lot of ways …

"Hello Alexis," he said, his voice ringing loudly in the empty church. She saw her mother in profile, as tense a coiled spring, her hand a fist over her heart, where she clutched at the necklace.

Alexis took a deep breath, trying to find her voice. She had been wrong, again; this place, it wasn't home. _He_ was. He always had been. Still, she willed her words and her body to be steady, to betray none of her tumultuous emotions as she spoke: "Hello, Stefan."

_Author's note: Hope I didn't go overboard with the dramatics of Stefan's entrance. I know we all knew it was going to be him, not Jerry, but I felt I had to give our dear Mr. Cassadine a proper introduction. Also, please excuse my attempts at Spinelli-speak; I really can't do him justice. As for Alexis faking Stefan's death – well, I figure if Helena could've had Stavros on ice for 20 FREAKING YEARS and then brought him back to life, Alexis could manage a little thing like this! Please let me know what you thought. Thanks._

_Responses to unsigned reviews:_

_Soapdemon34 – Sam! You called it! Congrats. I guess it was the obvious choice, huh?_

_Leslynn – So glad you like it. Stay tuned!_


	5. Chapter 4

Little Sister

Chapter Four: Need

"_Did it ever occur to you that there might be life after Stefan Cassadine?"_

"_I wouldn't know."_

She stood before him, trying to breathe, her lungs filling with air – well, what was left of her lungs, anyway – unclenching the medallion she had fisted, letting her hands fall limply at her sides as her eyes drank in the reality that he was here, and he was still alive after all these years. She could not read his expression, and could only hope her own revealed nothing to him. They seemed to be stuck as to how to continue beyond those simple words of greeting, each one waiting for the other to break the silence. Finally, it was Stefan who spoke.

"What is the threat?"

Good, down to business. No sentiment, no emotion. This was best. She cleared her throat and kept her voice steady as she told him what she'd learned about Valentin. She did not mention the source of her information, knowing he would scoff at anything that came from Luke Spencer. As she talked, he drew closer to her, leaving little space between him. She stiffened and resisted the childish impulse to embrace him – or to run away – as she finished her story.

"Did – did you know about this?" She asked him.

He circled her, studying, appraising, his expression aloof and unfathomable. "No, I did not." His eyes locked on hers. "But then, for a long time, I did not even know about you. Or … Kristina," his gaze dropped on her name, his face betraying the first hint of emotion, of pain. Alexis felt her eyes fill with tears, her resolve to remain detached waning. No one could reduce her to just her feelings so quickly and so deeply as him.

"We should have …"

"We should have been able to keep her," Stefan finished for, looking up again. For an instant, they were united in grief, remembering the sister they had known all too briefly, and who still lived on in their hearts. And now, there was another newly discovered sibling – but not like Kristina. This one was like Stavros: a threat. The shared moment passed too quickly for both of them.

"What should we do about this?"

The 'we' was reflexive. How many times had they plotted together, ever since they were children? Or rather, how many time had _he_ plotted, and she automatically gone along? It was well into their adulthood before she stopped blindly following his orders, and even then … even now …

The barest hint of a smile graced her brother's face. He was remembering too.

"_We_ need to gather more information before we proceed." He stopped circling and turned to face her again. "Don't you think?"

"Yes."

They discussed the old contacts, their likely sources of intelligence, and arranged the time and place of their next meeting, all businesslike, routine. They agreed that no one else would know he was alive, at least for the time being. Their words and attitudes were carefully clinical, their expressions guarded. Alexis had already started to leave when he called her back.

"Alexis." She turned. She felt like it was physically impossible for her just to ignore him and walk out. "How …" he struggled with the words. "How is … Nikolas?"

Every subject between them was loaded, and this was no exception. "You would be pleased," she said bitterly.

"Why?"

"Emily is dead."

He strode back towards here indignantly. "That is not fair! I told you-"

"I know what you told me! It doesn't change what you did!" He voice rang through the church, loud, accusatory, chastising – and indeed, he did look _almost_ chastened. This was quite a reversal of roles for them.

It didn't last for long. She lowered her eyes and added softly. "He has a son."

"He and Emily had a son? An heir?"

"No, not Emily. They had some difficulties during their marriage…and he was with someone else for a time. But he and Emily reconciled after Courtney's death."

"Courtney?"

"The boy's mother. She died shortly after he was born."

He took a deep breath, shaking his head, trying to take it all in. "Too much loss."

"What else can a Cassadine expect?" she asked, her voice nearly breaking on the last word.

"The boy, Alexis … what is his name?"

Despite the intense emotions coursing through her, for just a moment, Alexis bit back a smile. "Oh, you're not going to like it."

"Just tell me."

"His name is Spencer."

Stefan stared at her, slack-jawed in disgust. She didn't think she'd ever seen him so shocked. And then, he almost – laughed. It was surprising, and it warmed her, added the briefest hint of levity to these dark moments between them.

"I should have known," he said, shaking his head again. "And so … how … how are you?"

When she hesitated to answer, he grew more specific. "Kristina?" Her daughter, not her sister, still one of the sorest spots between them. But he pressed on. "Did you reconcile with Ashton?"

"Ned wasn't her father," Alexis said bluntly. Stefan didn't look entirely surprised.

"Who then? Wait … of course. Corinthos." It wasn't even a question, but the next part was. "Oh Alexis, really?"

"Don't you start! I love my daughters, regardless of who their fathers are!"

"Daughters? As in more than one?"

Alexis froze, the old fear creeping up on her until her heart remembered how to beat again, "Molly," she said in a near whisper, "I have a younger daughter named Molly."

"I see." Stefan said softly. "And is Sonny Corinthos her father as well?"

"No!" Alexis snapped. How _dare_ he judge her, after all this time, after everything –

"Then who?"

She felt like answering _none of your damn business_, but this was Stefan, so she couldn't.

"My husband – well, ex-husband, now."

He raised a brow at this. He had been there when she ran out on her wedding to Ned Ashton. The idea of her legitimately married was a difficult concept, even if it had already ended in divorce. He waited for her to continue.

"Ric Lansing."

"Ric … Lansing," Stefan repeated, slowly letting the knowledge sink in. "The district attorney-"

"Not anymore-"

"And Corinthos' half-brother. Again, Alexis, _really_?"

"Stop that! You – you don't get to…" she couldn't finish the sentence without feeling like a petulant a child.

"Did you love him? Lansing?"

This question startled her. Part of her wanted to rail at him: _Oh wait, my happiness suddenly matters to you again? Why should you care?_ But something else won out.

"Yes," she admitted, "for a time, I did. Very much. And he loved me, or so I thought … and we were happy."

"What happened?"

She flinched. This conversation was bringing them closer to the one thing she needed him not to know. "He cheated on me," she said. "Twice."

"I'm sorry."

"Are you really?"

"I know what betrayal feels like, Alexis."

How did he do that? How did his words, spoken so softly, still cut her like a knife? It wasn't fair.

"I forgave him," she said pointedly, "the first time."

"What about Corinthos?"

She blinked. "What about him?"

"Did you love him as well?"

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and let out a small, bitter laugh. "Oh, I don't know … maybe for about five minute there, somewhere along the line. It doesn't matter now."

"They were not worthy of you."

The tears started falling; she couldn't stop them. "Oh, what the hell do you know about it? You never even liked _Ned_." Just like Sonny would never like Keifer, or any other of Kristina's boyfriends, and would barely tolerate her husband if she ever got married. Stefan had played far too many roles in her life, not the least of which was a paternal one. "And if I can survive cancer, I can certainly survive my own bad taste in men."

"Wait … what? Cancer?"

"I had lung cancer. I'm in remission now."

"That's …" he looked as though he could not wrap his mind around the concept. "I can't … you … damn it Alexis, you should have contacted me! I should've been there!"

"Really?" Her voice broke as she yelled at him, losing the last vestiges of self-control. "And just what would you have done?"

He closed the distance between them, gripping her arms, almost shaking her. "I would've had demanded that you live, Alexis! I would have _forbidden_ you to die. I would have _ordered_ you to survive it, and we both know you always do as I say."

Alexis shook her head, the tears blurring her vision. "_Not_ always! And why should I have lived for you, so much more than anyone else?"

"Because it's _me_!" He yelled. "Not one of your _friends_, not one of your _lovers_, me! I am … all you ever needed to know of family. You told me that yourself."

"Well that's not true anymore! It stopped being true that day you stabbed me in the back at the PCPD! And you know what? After that, it didn't _matter_ that every other man in my life turned on me in the end. Ned, Sonny, even my own husband, Ric - how could it compare with being abandoned by _you_? How could my heart possibly break after that? It wasn't even whole to start with! _That _was the one thing my heart couldn't take! And you knew it too, didn't you, you bastard! You knew that I – but it's over now. We're done. I am only here because you are a potentially useful ally, but I could just as easily handle this on my own. I don't _need _you anymore."

"_Liar_," he whispered. And that was all it took. She broke down completely, sobbing, falling into his embrace.

"_Little one, I still love you. I am here for you_," he said in Russian, as he hugged her to him.

"_I missed you so much, Stefan! I love you. I need you, and you still have all of me, always_." She was a child again, and again, he was her parent, her protector, her friend. She had never broken free from him. Despite everything, they were bound together, still.

It was several moments before her sobs subsided, and several more before she pulled back from him. "Alexis, I know you, better than anyone." He cupped her tear-stained face and looked into her eyes, his gaze loving – but penetrating, as always. "Which is why I know there's something you're not telling me, something you're holding back. What is it?"

And now she felt the fear of a child, of a daughter, caught by a father in a powerful lie. She couldn't deflect, and she couldn't refuse to answer him. "Do you remember … when I was sixteen?"

Slowly, she saw the realization come over him. She saw his eyes fill with horror. "Alexis…" he gasped. "Tell me … tell me you _didn't_ …."

"I found her," she whispered.

At that exact moment, Sam, so intent on their conversation that she was leaning too heavily on the half-open vestibule door, lost her footing. The door flung wide open as she tumbled loudly onto the floor.

_Author's Note: I didn't focus on Valentin, as you can see – really, he's just my excuse to tell what is primarily a Stef/Lex, Samlexis story. I hope their reunion/reconciliation didn't come off as too maudlin!_

_Responses to unsigned reviews:_

_Soapdemon34 – So glad you like it. Please keep reading! ___


	6. Chapter 5

Little Sister

Chapter Five: Trust

"Hello, Stefan."

When her mother said those words, it took Sam a minute to make the connection. Alexis had rarely spoken to her about any of the Cassadines; she had gleaned more information from Nikolas than from her own mother. She had heard no happy stories, seen no family pictures. The majority of her knowledge was piecemeal, secondhand. It took her a moment to recognize the significance of Alexis calling this man by that name. And then it clicked.

_Stefan. Stefan Cassadine_. The man who raised Nikolas as a son, though he was in fact his uncle. And Molly and Kristina's uncle.

And hers.

She did not know who she had expected her mother to be meeting her, beyond her fear of it being Jerry, but it certainly wasn't him. Stefan Cassadine had "died" at about the time of her arrival in Port Charles, long before she knew she had any connection with Alexis. Had her mother helped him fake his death?

She thought so. She could believe it. She could believe Alexis would do almost anything he asked – and had – as she watched them interact. She had never seen her mother like this; she could never imagine someone wielding this level of power over driven, independent, career-woman, super-mom Alexis Davis. She could not imagine someone inspiring in her this level of need.

Sam had wanted, for so long, to understand who her mother was. To be sure, she had put her own unflattering labels on Alexis, both before and after the truth was revealed: _control freak, hypocrite, bitch, shrew. _And she knew Alexis had cast her own unfair and unkind judgments of her as well. They were both guilty.

But in this space, watching her talk with Stefan, yell at him, rail at him, cry for him, and finally break down in his arms – she saw her mother's defenses peeled away. She saw how raw her emotions were, how she seemed to become a child before him.

"I am … all you ever needed to know of family. You told me that yourself," he said. If growing up with the Cassadines had been the nightmare that her mother had hinted it had been, then this was the man who had woken her up.

They both turned as Sam fell to the ground. Fortunately, she was already on the floor, and the pews obscured her from their view.

"Who's there?" Stefan's voice rang out, harsh and menacing. Sam shivered, crawling back to the vestibule, slamming the door as their footsteps approached. She heard him call out again, and Alexis as well, in what sounded like Russian. She picked up a silver candle holder and smashed it through the room's one small window. Could she fit through? She would have to try.

The broken glass cut her arms as she squeezed through the opening, and she struggled frantically as it snagged a piece of her clothes. The door swung open just as she was jumping down into the street. Fortunately for her, the humble church was on ground level, so she didn't have far to fall. She rolled, and ran, not knowing if she was being followed, functioning on instinct and adrenaline, until she reached Jason's car, throwing herself into the passenger seat.

"Sam? What happened?"

"I'll explain later. We need to get out of here. Go!"

They were on the road, the only sounds the roar of the engine and Sam's ragged breath. She let the minutes and the silence stretch out between them. Jason glanced at her, and then grew alarmed.

"Sam, you're bleeding!"

"It's okay, it's just scratches. Really Jason, don't worry, it's nothing," she said, jerking back when he reached out to touch her.

"We could stop and take care-"

"No!" She said, more forcefully than she had meant to. She leaned back in her seat and covered her hands with her face.

"Okay, okay. You … you ready to tell me what happened, at least? It must have been bad if you had to run."

Sam paused. Had she really _had_ to run? She could have just revealed herself and – what? Joined in the "family reunion?" Well, it wouldn't have been impossible. But even as she thought this, she knew why she had run rather than face them.

She had run because of the look in her uncle's eyes when Alexis had told him about her. It was a look of pure horror; it was the look of his worst fear being realized. The reasons behind that look, she could not fathom. She didn't want to.

But it made her feel sick.

She swallowed. She needed to tell Jason … _something_.

"It wasn't Jerry, was it?"

Sam started, and glanced sideways at him. "No. No. Not Jerry. Definitely not Jerry."

"Are you gonna tell me who?"

"No." Her answer surprised them both. "Jason, look I – I trust you more than anyone, you know that. I trust you with my life. But it's … I just can't tell you right now. Not until I figure some stuff out. But I promise you, this person is not a threat."

No, she did not think he was threat, though she could see Stefan Cassadine would be a formidable enemy. In fact, he may help save them all from a new threat that had just emerged, if her mother was to be believed. And she _did _believe her.

"Okay." No one else but Jason could have accepted this so easily. She was so lucky to have him back. "I trust you too, Sam. As long as it's not a threat, you'll tell me when you're ready."

"How could you not realize you were being followed?"

"Stefan-"

"This is disastrous, Alexis! Who knows you're here? Who did you tell?"

"No one, I swear! I lied – to Nikolas, to my children, to everyone!"

"If one of Valentin's men was following you, if he heard everything –" He cursed in Russian, turned back to her abruptly. "Go. Go home. We can't know what happened, and we must no arouse any more suspicion."

"No, I'm not going. I can take a later flight. I need to stay here and figure this out with you!"

"No, Alexis, you are going home. I will handle this. No," he said firmly, as she started to protest again.

"Stefan – "

"Damn it Alexis, just let me handle this! Just trust me and give me control!"

"Alright, alright, alright…"

He hugged her tightly, kissed her cheek. "I'll contact you when it's safe. Go. Now!"

Before she left, their eyes locked for just an instant. _I found her._ The knowledge of her oldest daughter hang heavy in the air between them. The look on Stefan's face when she said the words … she knew this conversation was not over, just delayed. Alexis felt dread curl in the pit of her stomach as she turned and fled.

Stefan walked slowly through the vestibule door, his boots crunching on the shards of broken glass. He felt surreal, shaken to his core. What could possibly have possessed Alexis to seek her out? No good could come of it, for either of them. _No good could come of it. _

But the resolution of these matters was up to him. He had to take care of things, as he always did.

He had to take care of Valentin Cassadine.

And he _had_ to take to care of Samantha McCall.


	7. Chapter 6

Little Sister

Chapter Six: Blood

During her flight back to Port Charles, Alexis dreamed.

She didn't think she would be able to sleep after all that had happened, but her meeting with Stefan had left her exhausted, physically and emotionally. She nodded off as soon as they were at cruising altitude, and she dreamed.

_In her dream, the girls are as she left them: happy, laughing, showering their little cousin Spencer with attention. The three of them seem to be ensconced in a halo of light, bound by some warm, protective aura, unmolested by the Cassadine legacy._

_But not Nikolas and Sam._

_They sit in the dark, side by side, on the railing of the balcony. There is an open bottle between them, which they pass back and forth, not meeting each other's eyes. They are dressed in black, and Cassadine medallions dangle from each of their necks._

"There's no escaping it," _Nikolas says to her, looking out into the night. Sam nods, as he passes the bottle to her and she takes a swig. _

"Which one of us do you think it should be?" _Sam asks._

"Oh, it has to be you,"_ Nikolas says, and Sam looks up at him, finally meeting his gaze. _"Well come on Sam, I'm the heir. And I have son." _Sam nods. She glances back at the three children, her expression vaguely wistful._

"The kids'll be okay though, right?"

"Of course. I'll make sure of it." _Sam nods again, then leans back, kicking her feet up, letting the shoes fall off of them to the cliffs below. She leans forward again to look down after them. She grins, a familiar madness glinting in her eyes. _"It doesn't look so far."

_Nikolas shrugs. _"You might be surprised." _She laughs, a dangerous and deadly sound._

"It's in our blood, isn't it?" _He nods._

"Close your eyes, Sam," _he whispers. She does._

"Close yours, Nikolas." _He does too._

_And then they speak together._ "Three … two … one."

_Sam jumps._

Alexis awoke with a scream.

A flight attendant rushed to her, other passengers asked if she was alright. After reassuring everyone, she sank back into her seat. Any embarrassment she felt was overridden by fear. She knew Sam believed, on some level, that Alexis loved her two younger daughters more than her oldest one, but nothing could be further from the truth. She had loved Sam with all her heart from the minute she was born, and she loved her just as much now.

She would not let it happen. She would _not_ let her fall. She would lie through her teeth and make Sam hate her before she saw her nightmarish vision come true. She and Stefan could do it; they could keep the family – the _whole_ family – intact. She could rely on him, again. She had to.

It was in her blood.

**

"Sam, you're back!" Molly rushed into her big sister's arms, and Sam hugged her tightly.

"Oh, hi honey! I missed you."

She released Molly to scoop up Spencer, who squealed in delight as she swung him around. "Cousin Sam!"

"Hey, Sam." Kristina was in that stage of adolescence in which it was not considered "cool" to be especially enthusiastic about anything, but even she was grinning as she came over for a hug. "We missed you."

"I missed you guys too!"

"Yeah, you even got home before mom," Molly said.

"Yes, she did," Nikolas said as he strode into the room. Sam bit her lip.

"Hello Sam." He smiled warily, but not unkindly. He hesitated, and then pulled his cousin into a quick hug. "Have a good trip?"

"Uh, yeah, just, you know, some long-distance P.I. work for a case. It was … interesting."

"Interesting enough for Jason to tag along?"

"Nikolas – "

"Girls, it past Spencer's bed time. I bet he'd love it if you two tucked him in and read him a story."

It took a little insistence on Nikolas' part, but eventually the girls agreed, and headed upstairs with Spencer. Sam turned back to Nikolas.

"Look, I get that your concerned for me, and I'm touched, but –"

"No, it's none of my business. It's really not. It's just – god. You and Alexis have the exact same test in men, and that taste in terrible. I always thought that for Alexis, it was because of circumstances – because of our family, and the men in it." _Men like Stefan Cassadine,_ Sam thought. "But now I'm starting to think it's genetic. It's in your blood."

"Nikolas, Jason is _not _–"

"Sam, please, spare me the mob apologist speech! Look, I realize I'm not allowed to police your life, and I certainly have no right to judge your choices, but I _am_ allowed to worry about you. And I do. You're my family."

"Well, thanks. I guess," Sam said, and they both laughed a little. Despite some disagreements, she and Nikolas had always gotten along pretty well, and they both intended to keep it that way.

"Do you know when Alexis is due back?" Sam asked, hoping she sounded normal. Spinelli had worked some serious magic to get her and Jason home before her mother. She knew it would've looked suspicious if they arrived back at the same time.

"Early tomorrow, I think. I have to tell you, it's been quite an experience with Molly and Kristina here. Spencer, Cameron, Jake – I … I kind of have an idea how to deal with the boys. But I have absolutely no idea how to deal with girls. Especially the teenage ones."

Sam laughed. "Um, I don't think that's just you. And I'm sure you're doing fine. They seem happy."

"Well, they make Spencer happy. I'll have to have them over more often."

"That's a good idea."

"You too," Nikolas added.

"Huh?"

"You're always welcome here, Sam. Maybe I haven't made that as clear as I should've, but if you don't mind the uh, dark and dreary surroundings, Spencer and I would both be glad of the company."

Sam smiled. "Thanks, I'll keep that in mind. See you later, cousin."

**

The worst thing was not being hated.

The worst thing was being ignored.

Hatred, at least, was attention. It took a great deal of energy and time to hate. He should know; he had hated them all for as long as he could remember. But they would not – they _refused_ – to hate him back. Even his own father did not deem important enough to hate. His father saw him as neither a blessing nor a threat, merely an inconvenience. While the first bastard of his father's favorite mistress, Natasha (called Alexis), was welcomed onto Cassadine Island and beloved by Stefan, _he_ was left in the dark. There were no wayward scraps of affection to scrounge for, because they gave none. So he did not seek affection.

He sought to destroy them all. He sought to make them hate him as much as he hated them.

Well, not _them_ per se. In the beginning, his focus was on his father, the man who had disowned him after his mother died in childbirth, leaving him to be raised by a succession of indifferent governesses, far from any of the Cassadines. He wasn't the favored first son, or even the neglected but underestimated second; he was the third son, the last, the forgotten, the ignored. He set his sights on Mikkos, and though the old bastard was able to outwit him, he had the warmth of his hatred to give him patience.

And then Mikkos was dead, though most unfortunately not by his hand. Stavros followed quickly, and he rejoiced at the thought that the Cassadine fortune would be scattered among them all – or better yet, up for grabs. It could all be his for the taking.

Of course, he learned too late that those damn Spencers had ruined it all for him. Stavros had to go and become infatuated with some twice-married blonde tart and get a little brat from her – a son, of course. Nikolas. He hated him from the moment he heard his name. He had thought Stefan would too – he knew the second son hated Stavros almost as much as he did – and for a time, he contemplated revealing himself and forming an alliance with the brother he hated slightly less than the rest.

However, it soon became apparent Stefan had also been besotted with that insipid Laura, and doted on the boy for her sake. The weight of it all fell on Stefan's shoulders. He bore the responsibility for insuring that the Cassadine legacy, after he wrested power from Helena. He raised Nikolas like a son, and protected Alexis like a combination of father and brother. Such love, such devotion.

Disgusting.

He hated them. He hated the loved they shared, the love that they never felt for him. Spencer or Cassadine, bastard or legitimate child, it didn't matter – he hated them. He hated them all.

Helena he hated the most. And while she may have belittled Stefan and terrorized Alexis, while she may have threatened the life of flame-haired Kristina – though she needn't have bothered, as the girl was apparently doomed anyway – she was never able to harm him. No, he made sure of it, by striking first, like a snake. And when she provoked him, as she had done now, he struck twice as hard.

His brothers may have been dead, but there were still Cassadines left to hate, and to hurt: Nikolas and his son, Alexis and her brats, and of course, Helena. There was Luke, and Laura, and their two children as well. He might even get a little blood out of Luke's sister while he was at it. Why not?

People called him insane, and Valentin didn't correct them. The madness, the darkness, was his birthright. It was the only thing his father had given him.

It was in his blood.


	8. Chapter 7

Little Sister

Chapter Seven: Family Comes First

"_I couldn't stop thinking about one of these summers that we spent together…the summer when I was 16 years old, and we took the wildest horses out of the stables and we just rode them out into the hills – do you remember that?_

"_Yes, I remember."_

"_We rode for hours, and we didn't care where we were going – we didn't even know where we were going. It felt great, and everything seemed possible."_

_The Alexis that comes home after giving up her baby is not the Alexis that he knows. She seems to have regressed back to the fearful child he had such difficulty coaxing a smile from all those years ago. The bruises have long since faded, but she is pale, listless, with deep shadows under her eyes, and, considering what has just happened, she is strangely thin. They are alone on the island except for the servants, which should be a blessing, and yet she refuses to speak to him, instead burying herself in schoolbooks, desperately trying to catch up on the work she missed in her semester "away." Soon she will not only be caught up, but ahead, as usual._

_For the first time, he feels no pride in her devotion to her studies. For the first time, he doesn't give a damn._

_This silence between them is deafening. It is worse than when he visited her before the birth. Then, she at least engaged with him, cried on his shoulder, whispered all her thoughts and fears as they sat together, and he promised her over and over that he would never let anyone hurt her again. Now, he is losing her. He is losing her to her grief and her misplaced, misguided guilt. If anyone should feel guilty, he should. If he had protected her better …_

_He will make up for it now. He will not let her slip away into oblivion._

"Alexis, we're going riding." _He says without preamble as he enters her room._

_She looks up from the book she's immersed in, her eyes chilling him. Hollow, deadened, the dark circles even more pronounced. Slowly, she shakes her head, and she looks back down at the page._

_He walks over, grabs the book from her, and tosses it aside. _"You can study later. We're going riding. Go get ready. Now," _he adds emphatically, when she opens her mouth to protest. He sees the defiance blaze up briefly in her eyes and is grateful for it. Anything is better than that emptiness. Then she drops her gaze, loathe as always to disobey him, and nods her reluctant acquiescence. He leaves to let her get ready, and to prepare himself as well._

_He has the servants pack them a picnic feast of her favorite foods. He_ will _get her to eat. She's not going to waste away, not while he's around._

_She meets him at the stables, her expression closed, guarded, betraying nothing. They are both in their riding clothes. He is of course the more experienced rider, but she has become increasingly proficient over the years. Even so, her eyes widen when she sees the horses he has selected – the two wildest stallions that they own. She looks at him questioningly. _

"Don't worry, we'll be fine. Trust me." _Those big brown eyes, one of the few things about her that hasn't changed in all these years, look up at him. _Always. _She doesn't even have to say it; he can see it there, the implicit, unconditional trust. It's comforting._

_He helps her onto her horse, making sure she is secure before mounting his own. The horses toss their manes, neigh and whinny, stomping their hooves, eager to release all their pent-up energy. A servant opens the gates, and Stefan guides his horse into a canter, with Alexis and her horse trailing slightly behind. _

_Their skills allow them to exercise a measure of control, even over these wild ones, but soon, it seems horses and riders alike are drunk on the fresh air, the freedom, wanting only to go faster and further than they ever have before. Now, their horses are galloping side by side, and when he chances to look over at her she is … _smiling_. Giddy with the rush of it, her cheeks flushed, she looks healthier than she has in weeks. She catches his eye, and they simultaneously let out bouts of breathless, reckless laughter. They continue on, into the hills – at least, he thinks that's where the horses are taking them. He doesn't particularly care, though. The destination is unimportant; the journey is what matters._

_Eventually though, the horses expend all their pent-up energy and begin to tire, slowing to a leisurely trot. They are at the top of one of the hills, overlooking the ocean. It is near sunset, and the view is achingly beautiful. He wants her to see it. He wants her to see beauty again, to stop being blinded by the pain of what she's lost._

_They tether the horses to a tree, where they graze contently on the grass, and Stefan begins to set out the food as Alexis gazes out at the ocean. He doesn't notice how close to the edge she is until he turns around to find her there, arms spread wide as if to embrace the wind. If she leaned forward ever so slightly, she could fall – _

"Alexis!" _He grabs her from behind and pulls her back. He turns her around and shakes her. _"What do you think you're doing? Do you want to die?"

_She opens her mouth and tries to speak, but the words fail her. She seems to choke on them. He reads the truth in her eyes with horror. This was supposed to _help_ her, not make things worse. He clutches her to him, desperately._

"Alexis, little one, please. Don't … go. Alexis, talk to me!" _He shakes her again, and she starts to cry. _

_This is better. Not as good as seeing her laugh for the first time in months, but still better. Anything is better than those hollow, dead eyes._

"Please, Alexis, please …"

"I told you she was mine." _He blinks. _"Do you remember that?"

"Yes, I remember."

_She starts to cry again. _"I told you she was mine, and no one else's! She was _my _daughter, _my_ child, and now she's gone, and I abandoned her –"

"No, Alexis, you didn't –"

"And no one will hold her when she cries, no one will catch her when she falls, no one will be there to love and protect her and take care of her, like you've always done for me."

"Alexis, you can't know –"

"I want her back, Stefan! I see her every time I close my eyes! I wanted to keep her, I wanted to give her all the love that you've given me! It's not _fair_, it's not_ fair_, it's not _fair_!" _She is screaming now, hysterical, and her little fists pound his shoulders, until he clutches her arms and holds her to him. She struggles in his embrace for a moment, and then breaks down completely, her heart-wrenching sobs echoing as they fall to the ground._

"She was my reward," _Alexis whispers. _"She was my reward for enduring everything he did to me. Why couldn't I keep her?" _He holds her tighter._

"You know why, little one."

"I'm her _mother_, Stefan. The rest doesn't matter."

Oh, yes it does. _But he knows better than to voice this thought to her._

"Please, Alexis … you have to … you have to try to let go now." _She is shaking her head, but he presses on. _"She will be adopted by good people, and she will be raised well, secure and happy, far from the insanity of our family." _He has no idea if this will turn out to be true, but he has to say something to reassure her._

"Really?" _She is not a little girl anymore, but she looks at him with the same eyes, wanting so desperately to believe what he says._

"She'll be fine. I'll take care of it. I promise." _She doesn't ask how. She merely buries her face in his chest, her sobs subsiding to sniffles before she finally pulls away. He gently pulls her up and leads her by the hand to where the food is set out._

"Eat," _he says simply. It's not a request._

_She sits on the blanket he has spread and begins to eat, slowly. He watches her for a while, and when she shows no signs of stopping or getting ill, he begins to eat too. They are both hungry, but Stefan is more concerned with her appetite than his. Her eyes flick up at him, and he gets the briefest hint of a smile as an acknowledgement that all her favorite foods are before her. He made the servants pack a great deal, but between the two of them, they manage to finish it all. He notes with satisfaction that she's eaten more than he did._

_Afterwards, they sit side by side, looking out at the darkening sky. The silence between them no longer seems weighted or deadly. After a while, he tugs her hand gently, signaling it's time to leave. Once again, he helps her onto her horse before getting on his own. Their progress back to the house is slower, as all of them are tired and full of food, and it's quite dark by the time they reach the stables. Stefan is grateful that the horses have such keen homing instincts, even as wild as they are._

_Stefan calls for the servants to attend to the horses; they do so silently, wise enough not to remark on how long they have been gone. He and Alexis head back to the house, and both shower and change for bed. Even though it is early in the evening, they are both exhausted and in need of rest. Stefan follows Alexis to her room._

_She turns, looking at him, her eyes pleading silently. He nods, and she slips into bed. He leans over her, kisses her forehead, and settles himself in the chair by her bed. Her eyes lock with his, gazing at him until they finally close, and the sound of her deep, even breaths is the last thing he hears before he too, falls to sleep, at last._

_By the end of the summer, her weight is back to normal, her face is no longer pale or drawn, and there are no more dark circles under her eyes. She is still quiet sometimes, and subdued, but she speaks once again about her ambitions, her dreams – college, law school, America – and he encourages her, promising he will stand up to Helena so she can go, promising he will use Cassadine money to pay for her attendance at all these prestigious institutions of higher learning that she dreams about. He makes good on all his promises; he takes care of everything he said he would. There is only one place that he falls short._

_With her daughter._

Samantha McCall was a great deal of trouble. To be sure, part of the blame laid with adoptive parents – a cold, indifferent mother (how familiar!), and a father who was more interested in making her a partner for his cons than in actually raising her to be a healthy, functioning adult. And when he was gone, leaving her only with skills of "deception" so rudimentary as to make any Cassadine sneer, it fell on her to support herself and the mentally challenged brother she loved so dearly.

Still, the way she went about "surviving" disgusted him.

Her mother had a brilliant mind. Samantha appeared not to have inherited this – or if she had, she neglected to use it, instead relying on the charms of her body, trading on the sexual desires of wealthy men like a common whore. She felt she was so clever each time she assumed another false identity, conned another rich fool into marrying her, and finally absconded with the money, leaving no trace behind.

Or so she thought.

How much of the Cassadine money had he spent paying her "husbands" off? He couldn't even remember now. After all, men with money were men with power, men who had the resources to track down and wayward "wife" to exact their revenge. He'd had to have some of them threatened and one or two were even beaten before they backed down.

And then of course, there was the last one. Bill Monroe. She finally graduated from theft and fraud to murder. He still couldn't believe that she hadn't been suspicious of the lawyer he sent to be her "public defender." Her mother would have figured it out in a matter of minutes, but Samantha seemed willfully blind. What would Alexis have thought if she knew?

But she was never supposed to know. That was the whole point. That was why he went back into the adoption records and had the death certificate placed there, the one that said the child died at the age of three. He knew it would cause her pain, should she go looking, but it would be worse if she knew what a degraded and pathetic life her daughter was living, and worse still if she tried to find her.

And now she _had_ found her. He had warned her that she had to let it go, but apparently, she hadn't listened. Even now, he wanted to grab her and shake her. _Are you insane? What were you thinking, seeking her out? No good can come of it for either of you! _But she was not here; she was back in Port Charles, waiting for him to contact her with more information about Valentin.

Valentin. Now _there_ was a threat he could deal with more directly. As an added bonus, it would distract Helena from her usual routine of menacing Alexis and fawning all over Nikolas.

As it was, he'd had to scramble to keep her from finding out about Samantha, and the entire truth about her parentage. She'd been pursuing her own sources of information on the matter, and had agreed to back off only after he had promised to kill Emily – which she was already planning to do, slowly and painfully. If Alexis knew…

But she couldn't. She couldn't ever know the lengths he had gone to. Not this time. He must neutralize Valentin, and then he must neutralize Samantha, by giving her answers to the questions it was only natural she should ask, even if those answers were all lies. Of course, he would have to convince Alexis to go along with the deception, but he was fairly certain that he could talk her into it, make her see that it was the best thing.

He did not particularly like or understand the woman that Samantha McCall had become. Nevertheless, she was still family. And family came first - except of course, when they turned out to be homicidal sociopaths intent on revenge. He would deal with Valentin as he should have dealt with Stavros all those years ago.

He would kill him for hurting those he loved.


	9. Chapter 8

Little Sister

Chapter Eight: For Your Own Good

_*Author's Note: I'm going to have to apologize in advance. I really struggled with this chapter, and I fear it's not up to par. It made me feel really good that you guys seemed so eager for me to update, and I hope I don't disappoint you too much. _

_Also, I have to say that I was a little surprised by the reactions to the last chapter. I didn't realize how mad you all would be at Stefan! And here I was, thinking you would find the whole horseback-riding-as-therapy scene so touching … Anyway, I still welcome your reviews, criticism and all. The next chapter will be better (and longer). I promise!*_

"_He knows how thankless it to take care of people for their own good."_

"_Yes, sometimes it is necessary. There's an obligation to intercede, even cause pain, when it can save someone from greater suffering in the future."_

"_That doesn't make it easy."_

"_Only right."_

They'd had that conversation many years ago, long before she'd had her two younger daughters. They had been talking about the slightly illegal takeover of ELQ's Indonesian division by Cassadine Enterprises, the reveal of which would have made Alexis' burgeoning relationship with Ned Ashton … well, over, most likely.

He had been surprised by her concern on that regard; he had thought it mere flirtation, nothing more. He had never understood what she saw in that man. What could possibly recommend him to her? His supposed intelligence and business acumen? His ridiculous "singing career?" The fact that he could still count the number of marriages he'd had one hand?

Had she not finally come to her senses and left him at the altar, she would have had the dubious honor – no, the misfortune – of being wife number five. And she probably wouldn't have been the last.

At the time, he had simply asked her what she and Ashton could possibly have in common, and the answer she had given had reminded him of her daughter.

If only Alexis could have believed she was dead.

He did not feel the merest twinge of guilt at what he had done. He had helped Samantha as much as he could without risking Helena's awareness of her existence. The child _had _to stay away from her mother and out of the Cassadine fold. Distance - it was the only way. There were no other options.

Alexis could not possibly hope to claim her – not while his mother still drew breath, at least. Even before he knew Alexis was his sister, even before he knew Helena slit Kristin Bergman's throat, he knew his mother hated his little one with a passion, and only allowed her to keep existing for his father's sake.

When he learned that Alexis was not his cousin, but his sister – as he'd always thought of her in his heart – there was absolutely no doubt in his mind that his mother would take her greatest pleasure in eliminating the two remaining generations that were proof of her husband's faithlessness. With Mikkos long dead, he was the only one who could protect Alexis and Samantha. And he had, and he would continue to do so.

The lies, the deception, the secrets … it was all for their own good.

Of all people, Alexis should understand. She should know; had she not done the same things, when she went to such great lengths to destroy his relationship with Katherine Bell? He had been so angry at the time, and it still irked him – though she had been right about Katherine, as it turned out. But this – this was different. Despite who Samantha had become, she was still Alexis' daughter, and he did want to see her hurt anymore than he wanted to cause pain to her mother.

The truth would have eaten them both alive.

Protecting the family – with the obvious exceptions – was still his responsibility, and it seemed it always would be … though Alexis had wished it to be otherwise for him. She had wanted him to pursue his "dreams." What a sweet and foolish notion.

"_Do you not remember at all what it's like to __**know**__ that the Cassadine legacy is a curse? Do you know how many times you tried to run away from Helena, how many times you tried to run off the island?"_

"_Yes, but I grew up. I stopped running. I fulfilled my responsibilities."_

"_Yes, you did. You did it. You protected Nikolas. You protected me, both of us when we were children and we loved you for that. Well done. But we are all grown up now. You don't need to do that anymore. You need to think about you. Why don't you think about - you must have had dreams when you were a kid, before you started taking on all those responsibilities."_

"_Well, dreams change, don't they?" _

"_I would give anything if you had just kept running off that island-"_

"_What, run and let Helena take everything, including Nikolas?" _

"_What started out as protecting Nikolas has turned into this redundant battle between the two of you. You-you do unspeakable things to each other and to other people and you don't have a minute of regret about it. God, I just wonder what you would be like if someone had cared about you the way that you care about us."_

Sometimes he wondered that too, until he reminded himself that such thoughts were futile, pointless. Though Nikolas and Alexis were both grown, they were still in danger. Not to mention there was a whole new set of children to consider: Nikolas' son (he could not yet quite bring himself to think of the boy as "Spencer"), Kristina, Molly … and Samantha.

As for he and Helena doing "unspeakable things to each other," he knew Alexis was right about that. But they were Cassadines, and those unspeakable things … well, they were simply what they did, a part of their DNA. There were a family of extremists; there was no middle ground, no in-between when it came to a Cassadine relationship.

They either loved each other with an intensity bordering on obsession, or they hated each other with an equal level of passion. In fact, the only thing one Cassadine could not tolerate from another was apathy. That, more than hatred, was the deepest insult, and the greatest punishment.

Which was why Valentin, who had been so long been ignored, was intent on destroying them all. And it was why Stefan had to stop his outcast brother by any means, and any unspeakable acts, that were required.

Thinking of unspeakable things made him look down at the documents on his desk. He had give Samantha a decent, respectable father – one who had died many years ago, but could conceivably have known and interacted with Alexis as a teenager. It was all very plausible. And the paper trail was as thorough and convincing as he could make it, given such short notice. Alexis would help him with the lie, exert whatever influence she could wield over Samantha so that she would not look too closely.

He put the documents aside with a sigh. He needed to focus his full attention on Valentin now. The other problem was as "fixed" as he could make it.

**

He watched her.

From a distance, from the shadows, her watched her, silent and intent. She didn't look at all like her mother, he thought. With her dark hair, she resembled her cousin Nikolas more than any other of her Cassadine family members.

This was unfortunate for her. People who reminded him of Nikolas only further served to incite his rage.

He could have left this to a henchmen – he had an impressive number, at least as many as Helena could muster – but he wanted to do this himself. She was, he knew, to most people's minds, one of his least likely targets, and so she was relatively unguarded, vunerable. It was almost too easy.

Almost.

With a smile, Valentin grabbed her from behind. Samantha struggled against him, but he put the chloroform-soaked rag to her mouth, and she grew limp. As she began to lose consciousness, he cradled her, whispering in her ear, "Hello, my sweet little niece. The bastard of a bastard – your pedigree is almost as impressive as my own. I've been so longing to meet you. Shh, don't struggle now, don't fight it – trust me, this is all for your own good."


	10. Chapter 9

Little Sister

Chapter Nine: Low Place Like Home

_Pain._

It was the first thing Alexis felt as she struggled to consciousness. The fear, the panic, the confusion all came rushing in an instant later, but her first thought was that she felt like she had the world's worst hangover. Slowly, her eyes opened to take in her surroundings. She gasped and sat up on the bed she was apparently laying on, causing another wave of pain, her head throbbing. But the hurt did not distract her from the realization of exactly where she was. It had been so many years, but she still recognized her surroundings.

She was in her old room, in the dark, gothic mansion that passed for a home. She was on Cassadine Island.

The names of her family members burst in her head like explosions – _Stefan, Sam, Kristina, Molly, Nikolas, Spencer _– and she stood, fighting against the dizziness and the urge to be sick, thinking distractedly that whatever drugs Valentin had used on her must have been quite powerful. She walked unsteadily but determinedly to the door – of course it was locked, and she struggled futilely with the handle – trying to fight the rising fear, a panic bordering on hysteria. _Breathe, just breathe. _ She must not allow herself to be afraid.

But she couldn't help it. She felt caught in an old trap, one she thought she'd escaped from years ago. The only good memories she had of her time here all revolved around Stefan. Everything else was darkness, pain, fear –

"Mom? Mom?'

She instantly recognized the overlapping voices of her two younger daughters, on the other side of the door. "Kristina! Molly!" She struggled harder with the door, trying to fight the anger, fear, and frustration that were threatening to overwhelm her. "Girls, it's – it's okay, just listen to my voice! Can you –"

"Natasha, get back! I'm bustin' through the door!" Never in her life had she so glad to hear Luke Spencer's voice; she nearly sobbed with relief at the sound. She backed away, and there was a loud _thump _as the door swung open, nearly coming off its hinges. Kristina and Molly ran to their mother, and the three of them cried with joy and relief in each other's arms. The girls seemed disheveled and exhausted, but mercifully, miraculously, unhurt.

"Come on girls, we have to move!" Luke Spencer didn't begrudge them their reunion, but survival trumped sentiment any day of the week. "Follow me, okay?"

"Luke, what happened? The last thing I remember-" The images were hazy. "Who else is here? Who else does Valentin have?"

"Well, according to the bragging he did when he had me chained up _this _time, just about everyone he's related to. Nik and the kid, Sam-"

"Sam?" Her daughters chorused fearfully.

"But it looks like I'm the only Spencer he managed to get," Luke finished. There was a faint note of pride in his voice for his family. Apparently, he felt the Spencers were too clever to be captured, but Alexis thought it much more likely Valentin was simply eliminating the stronger adversaries before picking off the weaker ones. She was smart enough not to share this theory with Luke, however, especially since he was rescuing her.

"I found these two locked in another room in this mausoleum and busted them out. We found some food and water, and I tried to calm them down. I promised them we'd find you. And uh, also, I kinda explained to them what's going on. I didn't mean to overstep, I know it's not my place, but they needed to know –"

Alexis released her girls, strode over to Luke, and planted a full-on kiss on his mouth. Unlike the kiss he'd given her that morning when he returned, it was neither brief nor chaste. She heard Kristina and Molly gasp in surprise, but she didn't care. She pulled away and had the briefest moment of pleasure when she saw his shocked expression.

"Thank you for taking care of my daughters." Luke grinned at her, in that way of his that he thought made him look cute.

"Oh Natasha, if only this weren't such a bad time …" He teased, stroking her face. He was only half-joking, and Alexis knew it.

When and if he found out she'd helped Stefan fake his death, and subsequently allowed Luke to be charged with his murder, she'd be willing to bet he would no longer be so flirtatious.

Now was not the time to worry about that, however. "Luke, where are the others?"

"That's what we're gonna find out. You still know all the inns and outs of this place, Natasha?" She nodded.

"Some things you never forget." If he caught the ominous tone in her voice, he chose to ignore it.

"That's my girl." He took her hand, leading her out of the room, bellowing "Come on kids! Keep up!" as Kristina and Molly stared dazedly after them, somehow feeling slightly less scared after the bizarre scene they'd just witnessed.

"That was so … weird," Molly breathed. And after going to bed in her own home and waking up in place that looked like it came straight out of one of her Gothic Victorian novels, that was saying a lot.

"Yeah, I always thought Mr. Spencer kinda had a thing for mom, I just didn't know she um, reciprocated?" Kristina's reply came out more like a question. Molly's eyes lit up.

"Maybe it's not so weird, then. Maybe that's why they're always verbally sparring – you know, like Benedict and Beatrice in 'Much Ado About Nothing?'"

"Oh, will you can it with the literary references!"

"Excuse me! Are you two coming, or are you gonna stay in there and dissect your mother's love life?"

"I don't _have_ a love life!"

Luke grinned again. "Well, if you want one –"

"Oh shut up! You're _married_ and I'm – not that desperate!" That was the _last_ she ever expressed her gratitude to him with anything other than a "thank you." That smug, arrogant, smarmy son of a …

"Girls, come on. Mr. Spencer is very annoying, but he knows what he's doing…. I think." With this dubious reassurance, the girls finally followed.

***

"Time to wake up, Samantha."

That voice … it was familiar. It was the last thing she'd heard before she lost consciousness – and it had that same tone of cruel amusement that made her want to recoil in fear and disgust. She didn't want to face the owner of that voice, but she knew she had to.

Sam opened her eyes. "Hello, Uncle Valentin."

His hair was black, like hers, and ever-so-slightly streaked with gray; she was, he thought, probably a few years older than her mother. His skin was swarthy, and his features made her guess that his mother had been Greek – apparently, Mikkos had chosen a mistress that was within easy reach of home. Unlike Stefan and Stavros, he was clean-shaven, and his eyes were a deep, striking blue. He would have been handsome, really, if it were not for the look she saw in those eyes.

_Insanity._ It was the first thing that came to mind, looking in those eyes of his, facing an expression that was somewhere between a sneer and a snarl. He must be clever, he must have resources, to bring her here, wherever they were, so he must have some sort of presence of mind. But she couldn't deny what she saw. People had always told her all of the Cassadines were tinged with madness, and now, looking into the eyes of Valentin, she believed them.

Those mad eyes lit up with glee when she spoke his name, and the smile that was not a smile widened; the effect was not pleasant. "You know who I am."

"Yes I do," Sam said, fighting to keep her voice and her gaze steady. More than ever, she was glad she had made the decision to follow her mother to St. Petersburg. Although her current situation certainly wasn't good, it would have been that much worse he she had no idea who had taken her, and why. "Do you know who I am?"

It was a stupid question, but she was stalling, struggling against the ropes that bound her arms and legs to the chair, her eyes darting around the dark room, looking for a means of escape. In response to her question, her threw back his head and laughed.

"Of course I know who you are! Samantha, the first bastard brat of my bastard little sister. Oh, please don't take offense," he added mockingly. "You see, I'm a bastard too, and like you, I was cast out of the Cassadine fold at birth. We have _so_ much in common," he leered, her face close to his. Sam shuddered and turned away. "It's almost a pity you won't be alive long enough for us to compare notes."

Sam turned to glare at him. "If you kill me, I swear, Jason Morgan will –"

"Ah yes, Mr. Morgan! Your mobster boyfriend. Mobster… is that the right term? I can never remember all these quaint little American expressions. But he's not your first of that ilk, is he? Didn't you also bed Sonny Corinthos, your mother's former lover, and miscarry his child?" He saw the pain in Sam's eyes at the mention of her dead daughter, and it only added to his amusement. "Oh come now, dear Samantha, it was really for the best, wasn't it? Just think of the twisted familial relationships that would've ensued, it would have been almost … incestuous."

His eyes locked with hers, and again, Sam was overcome by the image to turn away, but she fought it. "You know," he continued thoughtfully, "You don't look a thing like your mother. In fact, you … do you know who you look like? Like –"

"You're wrong, little brother." Valentin's head whipped around to see him standing there, dressed in black, as always, and with a gun in his hand. "She resembles her mother in one aspect, at least. She has her mother's eyes."

With a cry of pure rage, Valentin launched himself at Stefan, and soon both of them were struggling for control of the gun. Meanwhile, Sam worked frantically against her bonds, finally managing to untie her hands, and then her feet. Valentin was bearing down on Stefan, and she struck him from behind in the exact spot Jason had once shown her. It worked; he fell to the floor, unconscious, as Stefan lowered the gun.

He looked at Sam with an expression she couldn't fathom. She swallowed, remembering the look of horror in his eyes when Alexis had told him about her. But he had also just helped to save her, she reminded herself. And she had seen how much he loved her mother, and how much she loved him. If she had to choose between him and Valentin … well, there was no choice. "Are you alright?" He asked her.

"Yeah, I'm – I'm okay."

"Samantha McCall."

"Yes. And you're Stefan Cassadine."

"You don't seem surprised to see me."

"I …" She wasn't sure what to say, but as it turned out, it didn't matter. She saw his expression change as he realized the truth.

"That day in the church … that was you." Stefan shook his head. "And all this time, I thought it was one of Valentin's men… how much did you hear?"

"I don't think that's important right now," Samantha said, meeting his gaze defiantly. She wasn't her mother; she wasn't going to give him information simply because he demanded it.

Even if she couldn't deny that she found him intimidating.

"I think it is."

"Well, I don't care!" She shouted. "We need to get out of … where are we?"

"On Cassadine Island, in the house that your mother and I grew up in … the house that Valentin here was apparently never allowed to set foot in."

"Makes sense," Sam said softly. She looked down at his unconscious form.

"You should go, Samantha." She looked back up at him, surprised. "Wait for me outside the room, and then we'll find the others. I'm sure he's taken more of the family than just you."

"Are you going to kill him?"

Stefan swallowed. "Yes."

"You can't – "

"Why? Did you want to do the honors?"

She looked at him incredulously. "How dare you –"

"How dare I? Your lover is a hit man, Samantha, I hardly think you are entitled to take the moral high ground here! Would you prefer I had let him kill you? And your mother, and your sisters?"

"There – there has to be another way –"

They were interrupted by three armed men bursting into the room. Stefan grabbed Sam's arm and pulled her across the room, touching a seemingly random place on the wall, which sprung open to reveal a secret passageway.

They ran through the opening, which closed just in time, though they could hear Valentin's men yelling and pounding futilely on the other side. Like his sister, Stefan remembered all the secrets of this house, secrets that Valentin never had the opportunity to learn. Sam looked around, trying to catch her breath.

"This is just like Wyndemere."

"Why do you think I bought Spoon Island in the first place?" She didn't think Stefan would have been the sentimental type, especially not after what she'd just witnessed. It was disturbing to think he'd been about to kill Valentin, but it was even more disturbing that she couldn't exactly fault his reasons for wanting to do so. Killing, not out of malice, but of necessity – wasn't that what Jason had always done?

"So … what do we do now?" Sam asked him.

"Now, you tell me why you're not rotting six feet under, Cassadine, since you're supposed to be dead. And tell me why I shouldn't fix that little problem by killing you … again." Stefan and Sam whirled around to see Alexis, Kristina, Molly … and Luke Spencer, glaring with shock and hatred at the one Cassadine he hadn't quite managed to kill.

_*Author's Note: Thanks for all the reviews, and sorry I haven't had time to respond to the unsigned ones; please know all your comments are appreciated. Keep reading!*_


	11. Chapter 10

Little Sister

Chapter Ten: Reckoning

*Author's Note: This chapter is dedicated to Soapdemon34, whose repeated "begging" for an update got me off my lazy arse – or rather, back on it, sitting a the computer diligently typing what I hope is a passable installment of my story. I've suffered some writer's block, I guess, but I think that's over now. So everyone, if you like this chapter, thank Soapdemon34!*

"_Oh, you are thoroughly Luke Spencer's puppet now."_

"_What irks you is that I'm no longer yours!"_

"Why aren't _you _in prison for my murder?"

Luke lunged at Stefan, but Alexis placed herself between them. Stefan's fists were balled up, but Sam put a hand on his arm and shook her head. He clenched his teeth and nodded grudgingly at her.

"Damn it Natasha, let me go!"

"No really, Luke, shouldn't you be the one who's rotting - in a cell? I made sure it was painfully obvious that you'd 'killed' me, as I recall."

"Yeah, well if you hadn't left that stupid suicide note –"

"Suicide note?" Stefan turned and looked at Alexis.

"Did you really think I was going to let you frame him?" Alexis snapped. "I helped you fake your death, Stefan, I didn't agree to frame Luke for murder."

"Wait a minute – Alexis – damn it – you defended me against the murder charge!"

"Yes, well, now you know why."

Both men began yelling at Alexis simultaneously, berating her for what they perceived as her betrayals.

"That's enough!" Sam cut them off. "Both of you, back off my mother! Luke, Stefan is her brother. What did you expect her to do? Stefan, she helped you when no one else would. You're not allowed be pissed off because she kept an innocent man from going to prison. Now I'm sure both of you just can't wait to be at each other's throats again, but we have a bigger problem because Valentin is trying to kill us all!"

They both stared at her, and so did Alexis. She had not expected Sam to defend her so vehemently. And it seemed to have worked. Luke and Stefan were still glaring at each other, but they seemed to have come to a tenuous détente.

"Wait … you're our uncle?" The tense silence was broken by Molly's sweet, hopeful voice. Stefan seemed to notice her for the first time, and he was quite taken aback.

"My god. Alexis, she is the _image_ of you at that age. It's uncanny."

"Mom never talks about you." Kristina said suddenly. Unlike Molly, her voice contained wariness, defiance even.

"Yeah well, your mother never talked about him because he's a worthless piece of-"

"Shut up Luke," Alexis hissed. God, this was so complicated.

Stefan fixed his gaze on Kristina. "You do not look like your namesake." Alexis bit her lip.

"My namesake?"

"Your Aunt Kristina."

"Mom never talks about her either."

"I imagine because it hurts too much to remember."

"So then who do I look like then? Am I the _image_ of mother at my age too?"

Stefan seemed almost amused by her sharpness.

"Somewhat," he conceded. "But you have your father's features too. Fortunately, they sit well on you."

"Oh my _god_, do I have to stand here and listen to this crap instead of wrapping my fingers around you throat-"

"You're right Luke." Stefan cut him off and smirked at him, enjoying the shock value of this simple statement. "Now is not the time to get acquainted with my nieces. We should at least get off the Island before you and I start trying to kill each other again."

"You gonna leave without your precious Nikolas? And the kid?" Now it was Luke's turn to smirk, watching as Stefan was visibly shaken by his taunt.

"Valentin has Nikolas?"

"Yeah, and his sweet little boy. Or doesn't he matter to you, since his name is Spencer? We all know how much you hate anyone with that name-"

"Luke, stop it!" Alexis snapped, watching her brother's pained, panicked face and knowing it was a mirror for her own. Stefan turned to her.

"Alexis, I have ship waiting to take us to Athens. I want you and the girls to take the tunnels to the launch. I'm going to find Nikolas and …" he swallowed. "…Spencer." There, he'd said it. "Wait for me as long as you can."

"Yeah, Natasha, go. I'll stay here and … help … Stefan."

Samantha strode over and gripped Luke's arm.

"You're coming with us, Luke, if I have to drag you every step of the way." He looked down at her. She was a petite thing, but her grip was like iron. Well, he supposed she was right, now wasn't the time for this. But as soon as they were safely back home…

He gave Stefan one last glare and turned away, following Alexis and her children through the tunnels, to the ship.

***

"Nikolas!" Alexis nearly sobbed with relief as he strode onto the ship, little Spencer in his arms. Of all of them, he looked the worse for the wear, with cuts and bruises, and he seemed exhausted, but at least he was in one piece.

Sam noticed that Nikolas' face was streaked with tears. She could imagine what had happened when he had seen Stefan, and been rescued by him. It was probably something similar to what she'd witnessed between Stefan and Alexis in the church. He may not have had any children of his own, but Stefan had functioned as a parent to both his sister and his nephew, and for all their conflicted emotions regarding him, she could see they still viewed him as such.

"We – we have to go," Nikolas gasped, nearly collapsing on the deck. Sam grabbed his arm, supporting him, and Alexis took Spencer from him, who cried, "Daddy, daddy!" before Molly and Kristina rushed over to soothe him.

"Where's Stefan?" Alexis asked him.

Even in his drugged and weakened state, Nikolas was still able to fix his beloved aunt with an indignant glare. "Well, I _thought_ he was where we buried him, but apparently, you helped him fake his death and kept the truth from me _this whole time-_"

"Nikolas, please, now is not the time to discuss this-"

"He's taken a smaller ship to the mainland, or so he told me."

"I believe it," Luke said, as they looked at him in surprise. "He's knows if he sets foot on this boat, I'll kill him-"

"Mr. Spencer? Could you please stop talking about killing my uncle?" Molly asked tremulously.

"Yeah, for like, five minutes even?" Kristina snapped. While she certainly didn't know her Uncle Stefan, she had had just about enough of Luke Spencer talking about how awful he was and how he wanted to strangle him to death. It was bad enough she had to hear all the terrible things people said about her father….

Luke looked as if he wanted to snap back at her, but he couldn't. She was just a kid; she didn't know any better. It wasn't her fault her uncle was a Casasdine.

They gave orders, and the ship set off to Athens. The silence stretched out until Sam broke it and asked the obvious question:

"Is it just me, or was it a little too easy for all of us to escape?"

***

"Sir, they've made it off the Island."

"All of them?"

"Yes."

"Stefan too?"

"Yes. We are monitoring the progress of both ships, and we will trace the subsequent flights back to the States, but as you instructed, nothing will be set in motion until they return to Port Charles."

"Good." His voice was like ice, his expression like stone. The henchman knew that this was merely the calm before the storm – soon, he would either be full of a malicious rage at having been defeated, or an equally malicious glee at having triumphed. The henchmen did not relish witnessing either outcome.

But the job paid extremely well.

"Has the doctor analyzed the DNA samples yet?"

"No sir. But we should have the results fairly soon. Is there anything else I can do for you in the meantime?"

"No," Valentin said softly. The cold, cruel smile – the only kind he was capable of – spread across his face again, his eyes bright with malice. It was an unexpected windfall, but if his guess was right – and he was fairly certain it was – it would make the reckoning all that more satisfying, his revenge all that more sweet.

What was that saying? 'The truth will set you free.' Only in this case, the opposite would be true. The truth would cage them, imprison them, beat them down, and then, when they were at there weakest, he would swoop in for the kill.

Samantha would be the appetizer. Nikolas would be the main course. The rest of them would be a decadent dessert on which he gorged, until his blood lust was sated.

His reckoning would be delicious, indeed.


	12. Chapter 11

Little Sister

Chapter 11: Explanations

"_I like to promote the idea that I have a life outside this family," Alexis told him._

"_Is it working?" Stefan asked._

"_No."_

"_I always enjoyed being your protector, Alexis. Sometimes I even miss it," he said._

"_So do I."_

"You don't know what you're talking about, Sam. You don't know the first thing about the man you're so blindly defending," Luke told her. She sighed, rolling her eyes in frustration. She had been trying for what seemed like hours to shut him up. Lucky had always been easy to reason with – something she saw now he must have gotten from his mother.

The ship was making its way to Athens, and night had fallen. After some makeshift first aid for what were fortunately surface wounds, an exhausted Nikolas had fallen asleep below deck, with Spencer in his arms; Valentin had apparently kept father and son separated, and now, Spencer was unwilling to leave him. Even with his fear that he would wake up to find Nikolas gone, fatigue eventually overtook the little boy, and he too succumbed to sleep under Kristina's and Molly's watchful eyes. Alexis then pleaded with her two younger daughters to get some rest, promising further explanations at a later date, and after some cajoling, they had reluctantly acquiesced.

During all of this, Luke had been continuing a long, loud tirade against Cassadines in general and Stefan in particular, which played no small part in Alexis sending her daughters below deck. She seemed to have no strength left to argue with Luke, and when he started in again, she strode away to the other side of the ship. Luke tried to follow, but was blocked by Sam. And now here they were, at an impasse. Sam scowled at Luke in a way that he found eerily familiar, though he didn't know why.

"I'm not defending him, Luke. You're right, I don't know Stefan Cassadine. All I know is that he saved our lives – no, listen!" she said as Luke scoffed. "He saved me, and Nikolas and Spencer, and he got us all off the island, and yes, I'm grateful, but I am not asking you stop your ranting about how awful he is because he's suddenly won my undying loyalty. My sisters do _not _need to hear about how irredeemable you think he is. They hear enough nasty stories about their fathers, especially Kristina. And I need you to lay off Alexis. He's her brother, and she loves him, alright? He protected her-"

"He _dominated _her, Sam." Luke had at least lowered his voice, but his tone was deadly serious. "I was there, I saw it. Do you know how many times he turned his back on her for some supposed betrayal, and how many times Alexis went crawling back to do his bidding?"

Sam shook her head defiantly, but she couldn't entirely dismiss Luke's words. What she had seen that day in church lent credence to his claim.

"You ask her – you ask her about the crimes she committed in his name. You ask her how many of his messes she cleaned up. You wanna prove me wrong? You ask your mother about, 'Timoria.' Ask her about the shooting of Katherine Bell. Ask her, Sam. Right now. You don't want to hear the truth from me, fine. You get it from her. Straight from the source."

Sam bit her lip, glancing over to the other side of the ship where he mother stood, braced against the railing, staring out at the sea. She looked back at Luke. "I'll ask her if you shut up about Stefan, okay?"

"Fine. Until we get to Athens-"

"Until we get _home_, Luke." God, the man was stubborn. "Deal?"

"Fine. Deal," Luke conceded reluctantly, and they shook on it. Once, on a night like this, he had shook hands and made a deal with her mother – to kill Helena. Unfortunately for both of them, that hadn't gone according to plan.

He wondered if Alexis would tell Sam about that, too.

Sam stood there for a moment, nerving himself. Luke smirked. "What you waiting for, kiddo? Afraid you might not like her answers?"

She gave him that eerily familiar scowl again, turned on her heel, and strode across the ship towards her mother. She slowed as she approached Alexis, and touched her shoulder lightly, but Alexis still started; apparently, she had been so deep in thought she hadn't heard Sam approach. Her expression, as she turned to face her oldest daughter, was difficult to fathom.

"Hey, how are you holding up?" Sam asked, not unkindly. She intended to keep her bargain with Luke, but that didn't mean she had to jump right in.

"I'm alright, honey. How are you?"

"A little shaken, but you know … this all seems kind of surreal. Like something out of one of Molly's novels or something," Sam said. Her mother gave her a small, sad smile.

"Most things Cassadine are."

"Mom, you should know, when you went to St. Petersburg, I-I was the one who was there. Not one of Valentin's men."

"You? Wait … how did you even _know_ about St. Petersburg? How did you-" she stopped and shook her head. "Of course. Spinelli. You had him trace my flight, didn't you? And you saw…" Alexis looked away. She had not wanted _anyone_ to see her like that, so … vulnerable, and least of one of her children. "But Sam, why would you think I was lying?"

"Well, no offense, but um, you _were_ lying."

"Yes, but you didn't know about Stefan. Nobody knew about Stefan being alive except me. Who did you think I was meeting?"

Sam looked at her mother, and then away, fidgeting and shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

"I … well, I thought maybe, there was a … remote, _remote_ possibility that …"

"Oh god. You thought I was meeting Jerry."

"Look, I'm sorry-"

"No, no, it's okay, Sam. I guess I deserve that. I know, I know I never should have – everything about it – him – I just don't know how to make small mistakes, do I? After what he did to you, to Nikolas – god, if Stefan knew, he would've disowned me."

Sam saw her opening and took it. "Hasn't he done that before? More than once, even?"

Alexis eyed her daughter warily. "Been talking to Luke, have you?"

"He told me to ask you about some things. It was the only way I could get him to shut up until we got home."

Alexis crossed her arms over her chest. In another context, Sam might have read the gesture as a hostile, but now, she saw it for what it was: an unconscious attempt at self-protection. "Okay. So ask."

Sam took a deep breath and plunged in. "What's 'Timoria?'"

Alexis' arms dropped to her sides, and her eyes widened. "It's … it's Greek. It means 'atonement.'"

"Is that all?"

"No," she said softly. "It was a plan. It was a plan for …" she closed her eyes, almost laughing at the memory. It seemed ridiculous, even now.

"For what? World domination or something?"

Alexis' eyes flew open. "How did you know that?"

"Wait, what? I was kidding! But … seriously?" Sam actually started to laugh. "You and Stefan had a plan for _world power_?"

"We preferred to think of it as 'trans-global covert influence,' alright?"

"Oh my god, that is like out of a movie or something – and I mean a bad, cheesy movie that's unintentionally hilarious. No, really … seriously?"

"Yes, seriously, and it's _not_ funny," Alexis muttered, but as Sam continued to chuckle, she found herself biting back a smile. Then they grew serious again.

"Why, why did he do it? And why would you help?"

Alexis took a deep breath. "He did for Nikolas, for the family. He believed it was in our best interests, and I believed in him, so I helped. Obviously, it didn't exactly pan out."

"Did it involve … hurting anyone?" Alexis' eyes dropped.

"Not intentionally," she said softly.

"What about Katherine Bell?" Alexis looked up, her lip curling in a sneer at the name. She supposed it was bad form to think ill of the dead, but she couldn't help herself. "She didn't have anything to do with Timoria," she said dismissively.

"But she was shot." Alexis flinched at Sam's words.

"She survived it. She made a complete recovery."

"She was shot, by Stefan?"

"It was an accident," Alexis whispered.

"One you covered up for him," Sam pressed.

"I … we … got rid of the gun."

"Why? If it was an accident, why …?"

"That's not the way it works, Sam. He still could have been prosecuted. There were no witnesses other than the two of them. He asked for my help, and I gave it to him. After everything he'd done for me, it was the least I could do."

"The least you could do? You could've been disbarred!"

"Yes, and I could still be disbarred – if anyone finds out I perjured myself when I 'confessed' to running Claudia off the road, for Kristina's sake. I know you don't agree with my actions, Sam, and I'm not asking you to. It's just … there are things you do for your family that you wouldn't do for anyone else."

"And how many other things did you do for him, mom? Just because he asked you to?"

Alexis shook her head. "Sam, you need to understand, when I was growing up I … I didn't have _anyone_ … except him. My mother was dead, and my father didn't even acknowledge me as his own. But Stefan, he … he cared about me. He took care of me, protected me, even when it got him in trouble. He paid for all my years of education and stood up to Helena so I could go. He made it possible for me to be independent and follow my passion. How could I not be there, how could I not help when he needed me? He was always there when I needed him."

"Always? Even when you got pregnant with me?"

Alexis took a deep, shaky breath. "He felt you kick," she whispered.

"What?"

"When I was at that clinic, he was the only one who came to visit. Even Mikkos wouldn't set foot in the place. He came, and he gave me a shoulder to cry on, and you started kicking, so I put his hand on my stomach so he could feel it, and I told him it was because my little girl knew that mommy's best friend in the whole world was there."

"Little girl?"

"I knew you were a girl. I just knew." The tears fell, soft and silent between them, but Alexis was smiling, and so was Sam. Alexis shook her head and wiped some of the tears off her face.

"Now Luke," she said, with a slight edge to her voice, "Luke, through a bizarre set of circumstances, had progressed through the years from my enemy, to my ally, to my friend, and it's not usually in his nature to pass judgment on anyone, but Cassadines are an exception. I'm not saying Stefan hasn't made … morally questionable choices-"

"What about when he tried to kill Emily?"

Alexis swallowed. "That was when I reached my limit. Stefan had never done anything like that before. He hired someone to kill Emily, and another woman died instead. But what I later learned is that if he didn't kill Emily, Helena would've tortured her to death. It wasn't just about preserving the family fortune by having Nikolas marry an heiress for the money. It was about the lesser of two evils."

"But couldn't he have stopped Helena? Couldn't he have told you, or Nikolas?"

"He was used to taking on all the family's burdens, Sam. You don't know… after Mikkos died, he had to battle Helena for Nikolas. If she had been allowed to raise him …" she shuddered at the thought. "The weight of all that responsibility…"

"Is that why he disowned you?"

"Disowned me?"

"Luke said he turned his back on your more than once."

"Yes, well Luke often likes to pontificate on things he knows nothing about."

"Then it's not true?"

"It's more complicated than that, Sam. I betrayed him. I had my reasons, and I did it out of love, but I betrayed him. He washed his hands of me, and I washed my hands of him, numerous times, but somehow, we always reconciled. I guess it's what siblings do. What else can I tell you? My relationship with my brother is easily the most complicated one in my life, ever, but I couldn't stop loving him, anymore than I could stop loving you, or Kristina, or Molly. Anymore than he could stop loving me."

"When he found me, he … knew my name."

For a moment, Alexis seemed surprised. Then she seemed to think about it, and nodded to herself. "I'm sure when I told him that I found you, he set about researching your background. He always likes to have as much information as possible. For that matter, so do I."

Sam sighed. "Well, I guess that makes sense." As a private investigator, background checks were par for the course. It was often her job to find out as much as she could about someone, as fast as she could, and she enjoyed it. She was good at it.

Maybe it was an inherited talent.

"Listen Sam, you probably have more questions, but I'm sorry, I'm just exhausted…"

"No, it's okay. I'm pretty tired too," she hesitated, and then pulled her mother into a hug. They held each other for a long moment, and Alexis' words swirled in her daughter's head. _He felt you kick._

_Then why,_ Sam thought, still trapped in the warmth of her mother's embrace, _did he look so horrified when you told him you found me?_ But that wasn't a question she could ask her mother right now.

In fact, she didn't know if she would ever be able to ask it.

She pulled back, gave her mother a tight smile, and nodded her head. "Okay, so … let's get some sleep."

***

Luke was tense, but mercifully quiet when they arrived in Athens the following morning, and managed to book a flight home. Wary of being tracked by Valentin, they did not attempt to contact friends or family. During the flight, Alexis had a long, difficult talk with Luke, and she argued that Valentin still posed a great threat to them all, and they needed Stefan as ally, not as Luke's enemy. She managed to convince him not to tell anyone about Stefan still being alive. At least, she hoped she had convinced him …

"Fine, fine, fine! I'll keep it quiet. For now. Damn it, Natasha, I really _liked_ you."

"Are you saying you don't anymore?"

"Well, I shouldn't. You pulled a big one over on me, and you're a goddamn Cassadine. But I guess I still do."

"And you're a Spencer, Luke, so I shouldn't like you either, but inexplicably, _I_ still do. Are we done pointing out the obvious?"

"Not yet. Don't turn your back on your brother, Natasha. You can't trust him."

"I have no intention of trusting Valentin-"

"That's _not_ what I meant, and you know it!"

Luke had taken off as soon as they were back home, virtually disappearing as he left Alexis and her girls on the docks. She could hardly blame him, and only hoped that he would keep his word. Meanwhile, Nikolas took the launch to Wyndemere with Spencer, but not before informing his aunt that they would be having a long talk very, very soon.

Alexis sighed. More exhausting explanations. She wasn't looking forward to it.

They were about to make their way back to the lake house and begin contacting people when Sonny walked up and saw them, looking for all the world as though he'd encountered a group of ghosts.

"Alexis?" He stared at her. "Kristina – my god!" He ran to his daughter and hugged her tight, pulling back only to look at her, drinking in her presence, his voice shaking with relief. "You're alive!"

"Of course I am, Dad." Kristina whispered.

"I told them, I told them, if there were no bodies, that meant you were all still out there somewhere-"

"Wait, Sonny." He finally tore his eyes away from his daughter long enough to look at her mother. "What do you mean, 'no bodies?' What are you talking about?"

"You - you don't know? The … the lake house … there was a fire. It was burned to the ground."


	13. Chapter 12

Little Sister 

Chapter 12: Mothers and Memories

_*Author's Note: For the purposes of this fic, Sonny is still married to Claudia. He hasn't figured out her part in Michael's shooting and does not suspect her at this time.*_

"Lasha? Lasha, where are you? LASHA!"

_There is nothing like drink to set Stavros into a rage. If only he would become slow, dull, and pliant under alcohol, as so many do, but this has never been the case. He is even meaner drunk than he is sober. Alexis has known this for a long time._

_His new wife, however, is still learning this painful truth._

"Lasha, you don't refuse me, you are my WIFE! I will have you whenever I want! You get back here!"

_She is six or seven months pregnant, clutching her stomach as she runs from her "husband," her pale face streaked with tears. Alexis, recently back from boarding school for the summer, sees her running down the hall. In an uncharacteristically bold and impulsive gesture, she grabs her arm and pulls her into one of the hidden passageways Stavros has always been too lazy to acquaint himself with. It is her "secret" hiding place from him and Helena, and why she chooses to share it with this outsider, she doesn't know. Perhaps, in the woman's fear, in her helplessness, she sees something familiar._

_Perhaps she sees something of herself._

"What – where-?"_ Alexis clamps a hand over her mouth, using the other to put a finger to her lips. If they are found … she is already cursing herself for the reckless gesture of "rescuing" Stavros' wife. _

_But Lasha nods, showing she understands the need to be quiet, and Alexis removes her hand. They listen in silence as Stavros storms by, still shouting her name. They both breathe sighs of relief as his voice fades and his footsteps recede._

"Who are you?"

"I'm Alexis."

"Alexis? Stefan's little Alexis?"_ For the first time, she smiles at Lasha._

"Yes. And you're Stavros' new wife."_ Stefan had written her at school and told her of the "happy" news._

_Lasha flinches, as if she doesn't like be reminded of this fact. Alexis can hardly blame her. She looks her over carefully._

_Lasha is young to be a bride – she can't be more than five or six years older than Alexis herself – Stefan's age, probably. But unlike Alexis, she has crossed the line from girl to woman, and she is an absolutely beautiful one: blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and a creamy, ivory skin that contrasts sharply with Alexis' own darker, Mediterranean complexion. Lasha has been crying, but it does not detract from her beauty._

_Later, she will hear Stavros say that Lasha is always pretty. She is even pretty when she cries, he will say. Her screams are like music, he will say. _

_And both she and Lasha will shudder and want to run again._

"I don't know how much longer I can stand this,"_ poor Lasha says, trembling. _"I thought when he found out I was pregnant, he would leave me alone, but …" _she looks away, biting her lip to stop a cry from spilling out._

"I don't understand,"_ Alexis says softly. _"Now that you're with child, he should have taken one mistress, at least."_ Lasha looks at her in surprise. _"What's wrong? You don't like the idea?"

"No, I … I don't care, anything to keep him away…"_ she swallows, and then almost smiles. _"It's just strange to her a teenage girl talk so casually about such things."_ Alexis pats her hand._

"All the Cassadine men take mistresses. Mikkos has had several."

"I wish Stavros would take one," Lasha whispers. "I wish he would just leave me and my baby alone."_ She dissolves into tears._

_Alexis puts her arm around the older woman. It's an awkward, clumsy gesture, but it's still a kind one. _"Don't cry, Lasha-"

"Don't call me that!"_ She snaps, with such sharpness that tears start in Alexis' own eyes as well. _"Oh, I'm sorry," _she says, as she sees the younger girl get upset._ "I'm sorry, I just … please don't call me that. Stavros calls me that, and I hate it. My name is not Lasha, it's Laura. Please call me Laura."

_Later, Alexis will notice that she never seems to mind when _Stefan_ calls her "Lasha." But that will be … after … when promises have been broken and lives have been destroyed. In the moment, Alexis is only too happy to comply._

"Alright then, Laura. Please, don't cry. We can stay here. You can hide from Stavros here any time you want. I'll show you the secret panel that opens the door."

_Laura smiles tremulously at her. "_Thank you. You're kind, like Stefan. Not like the others."

_Alexis beams. She can think of no greater compliment than being compared to her beloved cousin. _

"The others should treat you better. You are giving them their fondest wish, an heir. If it's a boy …"

"I know, I know,"_ Lasha – Laura – sighs. _"'First son of the first son,' and all that crap. I don't care! Look at me – Alexis, look at me."_ She holds the younger woman's face in her hands, her jaw set, her gaze intense, and for the first time, Alexis sees the steely resolve beneath the soft façade. Laura is not as weak and helpless as she appears._

"This baby – it's mine. Not Stavros'. Not your family's. It's mine and no one else's. Do you understand?"

"No,"_ Alexis says honestly. Laura sighs, letting her hands drop._

"Of course you don't. Maybe you will, one day, when you are carrying a little life inside of you. Maybe then you'll know what I mean. But thank you. Thank you for helping me. I thought Stefan was my only ally here. It's nice to have another friend."

_After Laura's time on the island, it will be many, many years before they meet again, in Port Charles. It's a simple, inconsequential thing; they pass each other on the street. She instantly recognizes Laura, and quickens her pace, hoping the woman will not do likewise and recognize her. But she feels Laura's eyes on her as she hastens away._

"Wait … Alexis? Stefan's little Alexis?"_ Inwardly groaning, she turns, and fixes a tight, cold smile on her face._

"Not so little anymore. Hello, _Lasha_."_ She says the name pointedly, and a small, bitter part of her enjoys watching Laura flinch._

"I asked you not to call me that …"

"Yes, you did. But that was a long time ago. I'm no longer inclined to do you any favors."_ Laura stares at her, as if this statement is incomprehensible, and Alexis feels the anger rising in her. What does the woman expect from her?_

"I … I don't understand …"

"You left, Laura. You swore you would come back for Nikolas, but you never did."_ The child that she had been so possessive of – it turned out he wasn't that important to her after all. Laura at least had a choice when it came to staying with Nikolas, or leaving him, but Alexis never had that when it came to her daughter; Mikkos took all the choices away from her. She feels no sympathy for this woman's supposed plight, her willful estrangement from her first-born son. _

_Laura can go to hell for all she cares._

"I … you don't know, Alexis , I …"

"No I don't know,"_ she says coldly. _"And I don't care to. Goodbye."_ She starts walking away again._

"Alexis wait, please – you – you were my friend! You were kind to me on that island. Don't you remember?"_ Alexis whirls around to face her, eyes blazing._

"Do you know what I remember, _Laura_?"_ She asks, spitting out the name like a curse. _"I remember you leaving. And I remember that Stavros was very, very, very, very angry when you left. That's what I remember." _Laura's eyes widen in comprehension._

"And he … took it out on you. Didn't he?" _Alexis freezes. _"I'm so sorry-"

_Tears start in Alexis' eyes. The bruises have long since faded, but the memories have not. _"You can take your 'sorry' and choke on it! This conversation is over. Leave me alone!"_ she shouts, and stalks away, her eyes still full of tears that she is too proud to let fall._

Alexis' eyes flew open, and she sat straight up in bed. The memory of Lasha's … no, _Laura's _tear-streaked face in still imprinted on her mind. Strange that she should think of those times, after all these years … or perhaps not so strange, given the circumstances.

Alexis and the girls have settled into Wyndemere, indefinitely. She is uncertain about whether she should rebuild the lake house or find a new home, but for now, home is here.

They have given very limited information to the police, and Stefan has yet to contact any of them, which makes Alexis nervous. She has tried to convince Sam to stay with them – Nikolas is more than willing, and it's not as though he doesn't have the room – but for the moment, she is staying at her apartment, though Alexis hopes she is beginning to wear her down.

Nikolas. Alexis sighed. Perhaps that is why she remembered Laura so vividly – she is, after all, Nikolas' mother. What a long, unpleasant conversation they had about Stefan.

She tried to explain to Nikolas that she didn't want to burden him with the knowledge that Stefan was still alive. That she didn't think he'd understand about Helena and Emily. That she wanted him to move on with his life. That she did it to protect him. Because she loves him.

Needless to say, he was less than understanding. She could hardly blame him.

"Look at you," Nikolas had said, shaking his head. "You haven't changed from back when I was growing up."

"Yes I have –"

"No, Alexis, you haven't! Not nearly as much as you think you have. You… you're still … my god, you're like his _child_."

"And you aren't?"

Nikolas shook his head, looking as though he wanted to yell at her some more, but instead, he pulled her into a crushing hug.

"Don't you dare keep anymore secrets from me," he whispered, sounding as sinister as any Cassadine before him – but his words were tempered by the abiding affection he has always felt for his aunt.

It is that affection that blunts his anger, and of course, he opens his home to his extended family. Alexis knows she hasn't exactly been forgiven, but he is certainly not going to hold it over her head. It's one of the few comforting thoughts she can cling to.

Alexis rose from the bed, and dressed. She went to her daughter's rooms and roused them as well, and they trudged downstairs to eat breakfast with Nikolas and Spencer.

Little Spencer. The kidnapping was quite an ordeal for him, but he has the resilience of his tender years. He babbled happily through the meal, easing some of the tension that still exists between Nikolas and Alexis. He babbled now, as he often does, most excitedly about the "nice man" that rescued "me n'Daddy" while the rest of them exchanged wary glances. It has been agreed not to tell Spencer about Stefan, as he is too young to understand the need to keep quiet about it.

"Good morning, everyone." Sam strode into the room, a cautious smile on her face, lugging a suitcase or two with her, moving too fast for Alfred to have the chance to announce her. He trailed behind, with more suitcases. Alexis is pleased.

Nikolas rose from the table. "Hello Sam. So you've decided to take me up on my offer…" he began, but was interrupted by Spencer's delighted squeal. The boy tackled his cousin, causing her to drop the suitcases and almost topple over, but she didn't seem to mind, scooping him up and swinging him around, as she has many times before. Her sisters and mother giggled at this, and even Nikolas beamed; it was a welcome moment of levity for all of them, and a reminder of what truly matters.

"Cousin Sam, cousin Sam! Are you going to stay with us?"

"Yes Spencer, for a little while-"

"YAY!" He bounced up and down, delighting the rest of his family. Nikolas shrugged.

"He's got a lot of energy," he said.

Sam joined her family for breakfast, and their moods were all the more relaxed for it. Afterwards, Alexis took her oldest daughter aside.

"I'm so glad you finally decided to stay here. Trust me, it's safer this way."

"Yeah, well it's not a permanent move."

"I know, I know. So … what have you told Jason?"

Sam swallowed. "Well, I told him about Valentin, and Luke, and all that stuff… but nothing about Stefan. I told him there were some things I had to leave out, and he wasn't really happy, but he understood. Don't worry."

"I really appreciate that, Sam."

"So, what about you?"

"Huh?"

"I mean, how much did you tell Sonny?"

Alexis sighed. Her conversation with Nikolas was a picnic compared to the one she'd had to have with Sonny. She given him a bare-bones account of what had happened, and of course, she had left Stefan's name out of it. She hated to do it, because that meant including her girls in the deception. Both Kristina and Molly knew not to breath a word of their uncle to Sonny; Kristina, in particular, had to be told that Sonny still held a grudge against Uncle Stefan for his threats on Emily's life.

"Basically, I told him what you told Jason. Everything except the part about Stefan."

"Okay, so … how did he react?"

"Oh, I think he was almost enjoying it, in some perverse sort of way. All these years, it's been his lifestyle and his choices that's been the threat to Kristina's safety. But, as he pointed out to me, it was _my_ 'crazy family' that kidnapped 'his' daughter. Of course, when I reminded him that Kristina had been kidnapped several years ago because of him, it took some of the wind out of his sails." Alexis shook her head, letting out the same frustrated sigh she had when she had talked with Sonny. "And then there was the inevitable, chest puffing, the 'I'm gonna double the guards on all of you,' the demands that we come live with him-"

"Wait, he asked you _move in_ with him?" Despite herself, Alexis smiled.

"Yeah, I think even _he _realized that was a bit over the top. He looked like he regretted the words right after they came out of his mouth. I asked him how that would work, exactly, and what Claudia might think of such an arrangement. For a merciful moment, he was at a loss for words. When I proceeded to inform him we'd be staying here, his protests were pretty feeble. I think he was relieved. God, sometimes that man is just so … what did I ever see in him?"

Sam muttered something that Alexis didn't quite catch.

"What?"

"I said, 'It's the dimples,'" Sam repeated sheepishly. "When he smiles …"

"Hmm, well yes, there's that, and … oh god," Alexis covered her face with her hands. "That is so… not funny," she said, even as she and Sam both started to laugh.

"So, you haven't heard from Stefan, have you?" Alexis shook her head.

"You're worried," Sam said softly. Her mother shrugged, but her attempt at nonchalance fell flat.

"Of course I am. But I have to believe we will hear from him soon. I have to have faith in him. What else can I do?"

***

As the day wound down, Molly Davis-Lansing took a book from the shelves of Wyndemere. It was _The Oddessy_, by Homer, quite a thick tome for someone of her tender years, but she opened it and began to read eagerly. The hours passed, and soon her head was nodding, even though she was fascinated by the story and loathe to stop turning the pages. Eventually, her sleepiness won out; her eyes closed and her head lolled back on the couch. Earlier, her mother had told her to go to bed, and she muttered "In a minute."

That was several hours ago.

He approached stealthily, wary of waking her. He took a moment to study her appearance – the brown, slightly curling hair, the high cheek bones, the long lashes and smooth complexion … yes, he was right the first time he laid eyes on her.

It is like looking at Alexis as a child. More even than Kristina, she is the _image_ of her mother.

Molly stretched, shifting position on the couch, and her eyes – her mother's eyes – fluttered open. She started, realizing she was not alone, and then relaxed slightly upon realizing who was there. Still, she straightened her posture and smoothed her clothes, putting on a serious face. It seems appropriate to the situation, and to the somber man standing before her, looking like he stepped out of one her Gothic novels, cloaked in shadow and dressed in black.

He and Molly looked at each other silently for a long moment. For once, Molly was at a loss for words. And then he smiled at her, the same way he had smiled at her mother, when she was even younger than this little one is now.

Molly gave him a small, hesitant smile in return, and it is so familiar, so like her mother's smile at the dinner table all those years ago, that he felt a tightness in his throat.

He must protect her. He must protect them all.

"Hello, Uncle Stefan."

"Hello, little one."


	14. Chapter 13

Little Sister

Chapter 13: Father Figures

*Author's Note: I probably should have mentioned this earlier, but for the purposes of this fic, Nikolas dropped Rebecca flat when he found out about the con; she then left PC, although she still keeps in touch with Quartermaines. Ethan stayed to connect with his family. Also, there is no sleazy Nik/Liz affair. Finally, the last chapter heading should have read: Chapter 12: Mothers and Memories, not Chapter 13. Sorry about that!*

"_Hello, Uncle Stefan."_

"_Hello, little one."_

Molly slid off the couch and stood up. She hesitated, and then held out her hand for her uncle to shake. Amused by the formality of her gesture, he took her hand, but kissed it instead of shaking, a greeting more befitting of a young princess.

Molly giggled, until she remembered she was trying to be serious, and hastily composed her features.

"How did you get in? I didn't hear the door … oh wait, right. The secret passageways. Just like the house on Cassadine Island. Is that why you bought Wyndemere? Because it reminded you of home?"

"Yes, in part." Goodness, but the child was perceptive … like her mother. He wondered if he would ever see anything of Lansing in her (the little he had known of him). So far, all he could see, from looks to personality, was Alexis.

"I'm glad you're here. Mom was worried."

"She told you this?"

"No, but I can always tell. Do I … do I really look like her?"

"Oh, undoubtedly." He hesitated, and then sat down on the couch, and Molly sat beside him.

"Then I guess I look like you too, because you look like mom."

"Yes, we both favor our father."

"But Kristina … I mean, Aunt Kristina, she didn't, did she?"

"Oh, no. She looked just like her mother, Kristin Bergman, your grandmother."

"You know what my grandmother looked like?" Her eyes widened, her expression intense, hungry for more information on the family members her mother never talked about.

"Yes, I do. Vivid red hair, large brown eyes, pale skin … very beautiful. And she was very kind as well, and could sing like an angel."

"How? How do you know all that about her?"

"She was my governess for a while when I was young."

"And she fell in love with your father … ooh, that's just like 'Jane Eyre!'" Stefan's lips twitched.

"Indeed," he conceded, with a grim sort of amusement, "complete with the mad wife." Most unfortunately for all concerned, however, Helena had not been locked up in the attic. "Speaking of books," he added, eager to draw her attention from his thoughtless reference to his mother, "What is it you were reading, little one?"

"Oh, that? It's _The Odyssey_, see?" She held up the book so she could read the title. "I've already read _The Iliad_, so I thought, you know, why not?"

_Why not indeed?_ The child was absolutely charming. How he wished he had been present to spoil her rotten in earlier years. As it was, he would have to be careful, or she would have him wrapped around her little finger, as the expression went.

"Mmm. You know, your mother read them both as well, but in the original Greek." Molly's eyes widened again.

"My mother reads Greek?"

"Of course – and speaks it, and can write in it. We did grow up in Greece, after all."

"But she went to that boarding school –"

"Well, yes, but that was only for four years of high school, and only during the school year. She spent her formative years, and subsequent summers, on the island, learning Greek, Russian, and many other things."

"Was there a school on the island?"

"Well, no …"

"So she had tutors then?"

"Not exactly … that is … your mother was not allowed classes of her own."

"Well, how did she learn?" Molly studied her uncle's face. "Oh, I know," she said, once again answering her own question. "You taught her, didn't you?"

"Yes, he did," Alexis said softly.

Both Stefan and Molly turned to see Alexis standing there, clad in her nightgown and a heavy robe, drawn snug about her to keep out the cold. She had awoken from restless dreams a few moments ago, and padded down to the main living room to see if Molly was still there. Many times at the lake house, her youngest daughter had fallen asleep on the couch with a book on her lap, even after her mother had admonished her to put away her reading and go to bed. She had expected to find her in the same state tonight.

Instead, she had found Molly sitting and talking with her Uncle Stefan, seeming completely at ease in his presence, asking about their family, and looking for all the world as though she had known him for her entire young life. Stefan, for his part, seemed thoroughly charmed by Molly. If he wasn't careful, she would soon have him wrapped around her little finger, as the expression went.

Alexis felt a tightness in her throat as Stefan stood and walked over to her.

"Hello, Alexis."

"Hello, Stefan. Oh, I'm so glad your alright," she said, and they hugged each other tightly.

"See? I told you she was worried," Molly piped up, as they released each other. Stefan chuckled.

"She is so much like you."

"Molly, do you think you could finally go to bed now? Your Uncle Stefan and I have some things we need to discuss in private."

Molly pouted. "Why do I have to miss the good parts? I'm smart; I can help! I can totally foil evil plans! I've read about – "

"Little one, listen." Stefan strode back over to her, kneeling down so that he was at her eye level. "This is not one of your novels. This is real, and deadly serious. Now, I am sure you are as intelligent and resourceful as your mother, but there are some things in your life you are still going to have to let the adults handle, all right?" Molly made a face at him, but he kept his eyes fixed on hers, his expression kind but stern, and after a moment, she dropped her gaze, sighing.

"Oh all right, fine. I'll go to bed, for now." Impulsively, she hugged her uncle. Stefan seemed quite startled by the gesture, but slowly, his arms went around her, hugging her back.

"Good night, Uncle Stefan." She kissed his cheek, and then walked over to her mother, embracing her as well. Before she left the room, she turned to look back at both of them.

"Everyone is going to be really excited in the morning when they find out you're here, Uncle. But I got to see you first." She flashed him a conspiratorial smile before turning and walking away.

"Excited," Alexis muttered, after Molly left. "Well, that's one way to put it." Stefan turned back to her, his smile fading.

"I heard Valentin had your home burned down. I'm sorry."

Alexis sighed. "Well, at least we weren't in it. Do you think he was trying to make it look as though we were dead?"

"I thought so for a while, but no. If he really wanted people to believe that, he would have done something more elaborate – left remains behind injected with your DNA, or something to that effect. I think he was trying to send a message."

"What kind of message?" Alexis shuddered to think.

"That he has the power to destroy us. That he is to be taken seriously, and he will not be ignored."

"Mission accomplished. What do you think will be his next move?"

"That I cannot fathom. After I arrived in Athens, I attempted to track him, but by all accounts, he and his associates left the island, and I could not trace their movements." Stefan sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Needless to say, it's very frustrating, not knowing his next move, much less how to respond to it."

Stefan was the most patient man she knew, as long as he was armed with knowledge. But in situations like this, his patience wore thin, much like her own. "Though," he added, "I do not think he will make us wait much longer. Not that it's exactly any consolation."

"Well, at least you're in one piece."

He gave her a small smile. "Were you really so worried? Alexis, you were the one who helped me fake my death. You should know better than anyone how much it takes to kill a Cassadine."

"And sometimes, they don't even stay dead, and they have to be killed again," Alexis said, before she could stop herself.

Stefan came to her and put his arms around her protectively. Alexis laid her head on his chest, shaking, wanting to take the words, and the thoughts behind them, and cram them back into the darkness of oblivion.

"This is why I didn't want you to go looking for her, Alexis," Stefan whispered. She swallowed.

"She's never asked …"

"Yes, but she is going to. Eventually, she is going to ask you questions you _cannot_ answer. And if she is as stubborn as you are, she is going to push hard for the truth."

She looked up at him. "So what do I give her?"

"The only thing you can. A lie." As she looked at him questioningly, Stefan removed the documents from his suit pocket and handed them to her. Alexis looked them over; all the information was about a deceased man, once a boy, her age, named Seth Lane Witlow. There were even pictures.

"Who is this?" Alexis asked as she thumbed through the documents.

"Samantha's father." Alexis looked back up at him in surprise. "Oh, don't look at me that way. It's the best solution, and you know it." But Alexis shook her head.

"I don't know if I'm comfortable with this …"

"What? You're not _comfortable_ with creating a false paper trail to make a person think they are related to someone they're not? I can't possibly imagine why that would bother you," Stefan snapped coldly. Even after all these years, all her reasons, and all the ways in which those reasons had been proven valid – still, it stung. She never had a right to play God with his life.

Alexis closed her eyes against his residual anger. "She would've used and destroyed you, I know it," she whispered. She'd known it then and she knew it now. Cassadine men were never so dangerous, to themselves and all those around them, as when they lost the object of their obsession, which was usually the woman they "loved."

Stefan shook his head. "Well if you do not want to see Samantha destroyed, you will convince her that this man is her biological father. Given your past actions, I imagine it will not be too difficult for you to lie to her."

Alexis flinched at his harsh tone, and he felt a flicker of regret. But he could not help it – a part of him would always be angry. Betrayal, however good the reasons, was not something taken lightly in their family. Only for her could he have moved past such a transgression.

Alexis contemplated the pictures of Witlow. He had been handsome, both as a teenager and as a full-fledged adult. He had black hair and olive skin, making his blue-green eyes all the more striking. His expression, as he seemed to look out at her from the photo, was …

"Kind," Alexis said softly. "He looks kind." She took a deep, shaky breath. "I wish…"

"I know," Stefan whispered, hugging her to him again, making her feel secure and reassured. For her, the safest place was and always had been in his embrace. He was still her friend, and her parent, and everything in between. Sometimes it frightened her, how much he meant.

"You will see," Stefan whispered in her ear, "that this is the best way. We are simply giving her the father that she deserves."

He pulled away from Alexis to touch her face, wiping away the tears. She nodded, and gave him the small, shaky smile that he had always known belied a great deal of strength.

"You're right, Stefan. You usually are. This is the best way."


	15. Chapter 14

Little Sister

Chapter 14: A Tender Lie

_Alexis is tired, jet-lagged, and disheveled – and yet, she has a smile on her face as she approaches the lake house and turns her key in the lock. She has been away for several days on business – a very important, potentially very profitable case out of state. She has missed _her husband_ – it still makes her slightly giddy to think of Ric that way – and is looking forward to an enthusiastic reunion. She opens the door with a wide grin._

_It fades as soon as she sees him, standing there, but he doesn't seem to notice. He walks over to embrace her, leaning in for a kiss._

"Hey, babe, I really missed – what?" _He looks at her in confusion as she shrinks back from him._

"What the hell happened to your face?"

"Oh, this?" _Ric strokes his new beard self-consciously. _"Well, I stopped shaving for a few days, so-"

"I leave, and you stop shaving?" _Alexis asks, aghast. Ric chuckles._

"Alexis, come on, you make it sound like I just told you I stopped _bathing_. Actually, I was thinking of keeping it-"

"Don't you dare!" _Alexis shouts. _"You shave that disgusting thing off right now!" _Ric stares at his wife, incredulous._

"Alexis, what is wrong with you? I haven't seen you for days, you recoil when I try to kiss you, and now you're flipping out over – over facial hair? What the hell is going on?!"

_He looks at his wife, uncomprehending, as her eyes fill with tears._

"My god, Alexis, you're … you're trembling. Baby, whatever it is, I promise, it's okay…" _He reaches out to touch her again, and she flinches away._

"Just shave it off, Ric, please," _she whispers._

"Okay, okay," _Ric says softly. _"I'll shave it right now."

_He heads into the bathroom. Alexis hears running water and the scrape of the new razor she gave to him. She puts her head in her hands, takes some deep breaths, and tries desperately to compose herself. God, how could she have reacted like that? This is childish, stupid. Ric is right; it's just facial hair. She's just tired, and her mind is playing tricks on her. Ric is her _husband_; he could never look _anything _like –_

"See honey? Smooth as a baby's bottom," _Ric says in a forcibly cheerful voice, approaching his wife cautiously, self-consciously stroking his now clean-shaven chin. _"Now, maybe you can tell me what's really bothering-"

_Her hands frame his face as she captures his mouth in a kiss. Ric responds eagerly, wrapping his arms around her, relishing the reunion that should have started the second she opened that door. But before things can go too far, he pulls back._

"Alexis … tell me why you got so upset. Baby, please," _he whispers, cradling her face in his hands. Alexis swallows._

"I just … this case is really difficult, and I'm really, really tired, and I just … I didn't mean to bite your head off, I don't why I let myself get so irritated …"

"Alexis, come on. You weren't irritated; you were afraid. And I want to know why."

"I love you," _Alexis whispers._ "So much. You know that, don't you?"

"Of course I do. I love you too," _he kisses her again, lightly. Alexis smiles shakily at him._

"So can we just drop it, please? Can we just chalk it up to - to fatigue, or hormones, or something? Can we just forget it? The girls – are they sleeping, Ric? Even if they are, I'd like to look in on them."

_Ric hesitates, searching Alexis' eyes with his own. Part of him wants to keep pushing, because he knows there's something she's not telling him. But another part of him doesn't want to do anything to upset her again, and it is that part that wins out._

"Yeah, Kristina and Molly are sleeping. They wanted to stay up until you got in, but I knew how late your flight was, so I put them to bed. They actually fell asleep in Kristina's room, curled up together, it's kind of adorable – wanna see?" _Alexis nods, and he takes her hand and leads her to where the girls are snuggled together, peaceful and content. Alexis kisses their foreheads, and then follows Ric to the bedroom they share._

_Ric sits down on the bed and Alexis joins him. He hesitates for a moment, and then wraps his arms slowly around his wife. Alexis clings to him tightly, surprising him._

"Just hold me, like this. Just for a moment," _she says._

"For as long as you want. As long as you need." _God, she loves him so much._

_Alexis lifts her head, and once again, Ric's lips meet hers – slow, unhurried, tender. They caress and embrace each other, their breaths mingling, heavy, hot. Ric starts to unbutton Alexis' blouse, but stops to look into her eyes._

"Alexis," _he pants. _"It's not that I haven't missed …" _they kiss again_ "this… but if you just want to go to sleep, I'd understand …" _And he _does_ understand. She doesn't even have to explain it for him to understand._

"I don't want to go to sleep, Ric. Make love to me." _It's all the encouragement he needs; his mouth fastens back onto hers, and she fairly melts against him. Slowly, they undress each other, savoring each new expanse of skin, and when he presses her down on the mattress and joins his body with hers, he unknowingly erases every bad memory, every dark nightmare – if not forever, then at the very least, for tonight. _

_He is both tender and passionate, fierce and gentle, and afterwards, lying in his arms, she feels nothing but contentment. She loves him more then she ever thought possible, and she can't believe she gets to keep him._

Except that she didn't get to keep him. She lost him in the end, to his own darkness, his own self-destructive impulses. Sometimes, she wondered, maybe if he had thrown himself at her feet, begged for forgiveness… but no. Not even then. She could never take him back.

Even though Ned had been her first love, she never allowed him to have as much power over her heart as Ric had once possessed. In fact, only one other person had more of that power than Ric did, but that was different; Stefan was family.

It had ended so badly, so unimaginably badly between them. And yet, that didn't mean he hadn't left her with wonderful memories – bittersweet now, yes, tinged with the knowledge that they could never go back, but wonderful nonetheless. Ric had helped her that night, even though he hadn't known he was doing it.

She would always be grateful for the time in her life when she believed that he loved her, even if it had all turned out to be just a tender lie.

Sighing, Alexis locked away the documents Stefan had given her, safe in the dresser drawer of her bedroom in Wyndemere. After talking with him, she had been unable to get back to sleep, and so had spent the rest of the night memorizing the information.

Why memories of Ric in general and that night in particular had come flooding back to her, she wasn't sure. Maybe it was this place – it seem to bring the past back, both her distant memories and her more recent ones, in a way that her own home had never done.

In any case, she would have to tread carefully, now. It wouldn't do to simply present this information to Sam; it wouldn't make sense for her to suddenly be volunteering information about her daughter's "father" when she had previously been so reticent. Sam would have to be coaxed into asking, somehow. Perhaps Stefan could help her with that; perhaps that was his plan already. If it was, she could hardly fault him for it.

He was right. They could not give Sam the truth. She deserved what she would be getting, what her mother had gotten – a tender lie.

***

"Good morning, Samantha."

"Good morning, Uncle Stefan."

He raised a brow at her unruffled demeanor as she entered the room. "Why is it you never seem surprised to see me?"

"Well, actually, I would've have been quite surprised, but as it turns out, I've already been informed of your arrival."

"By whom?"

"Me!" Molly said happily, suddenly appearing behind her sister. "I mean, it wasn't like it was a secret, right?"

"Well, it's a good thing it wasn't Mol, because we all know how bad you are keeping secrets," Kristina chimed in, trailing behind her younger sister. Stefan looked mildly amused.

"Hello, Kristina. And Molly … finally, little one, a way in which you differ from your mother." That must be Lansing's influence. Pity.

Molly pouted. "I can keep a secret when it counts!"

"Well I'd advise you not to keep them from me. I really don't like it when people do to that to me, especially my family." All three of them turned around at the sound of Nikolas'voice. He had addressed his words to Molly, but his eyes were locked with Stefan's.

"Hello, Uncle."

"Nikolas …"

"Okay guys, time to get some breakfast," Sam said, grabbing her sisters and rushing them out of the room, ignoring their protests. She didn't think Nikolas and Stefan had much time to talk during the escape from the island, and she had no intention of herself or her sisters being present to witness what should be a private moment between Nikolas and the man who was, for all intents and purposes, his father.

Stefan was quite surprised by Samantha's display of tact, and grateful for it. Even though he found talking with her awkward, he would have to take her aside and thank her later. But right now, he and Nikolas were far overdue for a long, difficult talk.

***

"Molly, why did he call you 'little one?'"

Molly shrugged. After finishing breakfast (under protest), Sam had sent Kristina and Molly to wash up, and Kristina had started pumping her little sister for information.

"I don't know. Maybe because I'm the youngest? I don't mind. I kind of like it."

"Did you really spend half the night talking with him about our family?"

"Well, I wouldn't exactly call it half the night, but it was a decent amount of time before mom came down and sent me to bed."

"What did he tell you?" Kristina asked, getting the same hungry look in her eyes that Molly had last night, eager for information about the family that had never seemed like more than a Gothic myth to her.

And so Molly related what Stefan had told her – about their grandmother, and about Kristina's own namesake. They talked until their mother entered the room, asked them what was going on, and Kristina rather angrily informed her.

"How come you never talk to us about this stuff, mom? About our grandparents, or about Aunt Kristina? They're our family too; we have a right to know about them." But Kristina quickly regretted her harsh tone, as her mother looked quite stricken. Molly tugged her sister's arm.

"Uncle Stefan said it's because sometimes it hurts too much to remember."

***

"Hey, cousin. You okay?"

"Huh? Oh yeah, I'm all right, all things considered," he turned from the railing he had been leaning against, gazing out at the morning sky, to face Sam. She stood next to him, and for a moment, they simply let the silence engulf them, almost companionable.

"Thanks for earlier, you know, when you got the girls out of the room."

"You're welcome. I didn't think you wanted an audience," Nikolas smiled, shaking his head.

"How did you know?"

"Oh come on, Nikolas, I know how much Stefan means to you, despite what he may have done. He raised you. In every way that counts, he was pretty much your father." Nikolas sighed, seeing his opening and reluctantly taking it.

"Yes, well, fathers can sometimes be difficult to relate to." He held his breath, waiting for Sam to take the bait.

"Especially if you don't even know who they are," Sam said softly. Perfect.

"Have you ever even asked Alexis who your father is?"

"No."

"Why not?" Sam turned to look at him, her eyes wide. She seemed almost childlike, Nikolas thought guiltily.

"I … I don't know."

Nikolas swallowed.

"Well maybe you should. Maybe it's time."

"Now?"

"Why not now? You've spent the last few weeks immersed in your Cassadine heritage, Sam, probably learning more than you ever wanted to know. Don't you think it's time to explore … the other side? Just ask her. Trust me." Sam smiled hesitantly at him.

"I do trust you. You know, I came out hear to give _you_ someone to unburden yourself on. How did it get to be the other way around?" Nikolas smiled sadly back at her.

"Well, I am a Cassadine. You know how good we are at manipulation." If Sam heard the slight catch in his voice, she didn't acknowledge it. Surprising him, she leaned over and kissed his cheek lightly. "Thanks," she said, and went back inside, leaving him to his thoughts.

Nikolas let out of a sigh of both relief and frustration. He was emotionally drained from talking with his uncle. What puzzled and troubled him most, though, was the odd request Stefan had made of him. He had fairly begged Nikolas to nudge Sam into asking Alexis about her father, but he had not given him any concrete reasons to do so. Nikolas had snapped at him that if he wanted to manipulate Sam, he'd have to do it himself, but there was something so urgent, so desperate in Stefan's voice, that he had relented in the end. And now, he had succeeded in the task that had been set before him.

He didn't feel particularly good about it.

Like all Cassadines before him, Nikolas had quite a talent for the subtleties of manipulation. It was like second nature to him, he had found. But that didn't mean he enjoyed doing it, especially not to members of his family. He just hoped his uncle was right, and this truly was for Sam's own good.

Stefan watched them from the main room, standing side by side. It was jarring, seeing Nikolas and Samantha together – at least it was to him. He listened as his nephew guided his niece's thinking in the direction he needed it to go. He retreated hastily as Samantha left, breathing a sigh of relief. It was done.

Now it was all on Alexis. She would make her daughter believe all the fabrications were facts. It wouldn't be that hard; all she had to was bury the harshness of the truth with a tender lie.


	16. Chapter 15

Little Sister

Chapter 15: Tender Manipulations 

*Author's Note: For the purposes of this fic, Kristina's boyfriend Keifer is not abusive. He is, however, a jerk in plenty of other ways.*

"Sam, please come in."

It was easier than she thought. She let her ask the questions, and she gave her all the right answers. After Kristina apologized, Sam had slipped into the room, and asked her sisters if she could speak to their mother in private. They talked, they cried, they embraced, and then, Sam left. This could only happen in the Cassadine family.

Only in their family could lies be like a balm to the soul. Only in their family could manipulation be so completely an act of tenderness, of love. Only in their family could deception be the ultimate protection.

***

"Keifer, please, don't be like this… no, no … listen … I have to go. I can't talk right now." Kristina hastily wiped away a few stray tears and hung up her cell phone as her Uncle Stefan entered the room.

"Who were you talking to?" He asked her. Kristina folded her arms across her chest and glared at him.

"None of your business."

"That is where you're wrong. You are my family, and my family is my business."

"Please, I barely know you. Don't pretend you care; it's insulting, and I get enough of that from my father anyway." Unlike other Cassadines, Kristina has not yet learned to mask her emotions, and her young face revealed pain, anger, impatience. She was easy for him to read.

"I doubt he is pretending," Stefan said softly. She tilted her head at him.

"Really? How would you know? Besides, you don't even like my father. I can tell."

"No, I do not. But Sonny Corinthos is woefully inadequate at deception. He cannot 'pretend' to do anything well. He either does or he does not. Therefore, he must care, because he could not successfully execute the mere pretense of caring."

Kristina looked almost amused. "Well, I guess I can't argue with that logic," she said, not without a heavy dose of sarcasm. "So, why do you call Molly 'little one?'"

"Why should I answer your question when you refuse to answer mine?"

"Well, answer my question first, and then I'll answer yours. Maybe."

Stefan sighed. He did not remember Alexis being this strident when she was Kristina's age. That must be Corinthos' influence. Pity.

"I call her that because it is what I called your mother when she was a girl, and Molly looks just like your mother did at that age."

"But you wouldn't call me that?"

"No."

"Because I don't remind you of my mother?"

"Not at all. Your mother was around the age you are now when she asked me to stop calling her that. She felt the term was more suited to a child, and declared that it was no longer appropriate, as she was 'practically an adult.' I assumed you would have a similar sentiment."

"Oh," Kristina said, looking slightly startled. She was so used to being last when it came to the affections of men – with her father, with her brother, and now with Keifer – that this explanation surprised her. "Well, I guess I do."

"I believe it is your turn to answer my question, Kristina."

She tossed her head defiantly. "I don't want to."

"So you do not honor your agreements?"

"I said _maybe_-"

"Perhaps I should discuss it with your mother."

"Okay, fine. That was Keifer. My boyfriend." Kristina looked smug. _Oh no. Oh no._

"It sounded as though he was upsetting you."

"He's just frustrated I have to stay here, and he can't see me very often. He … said that there were other…"

"Other girls whose company he could occupy himself with," Stefan finished for her. This was getting worse by the minute. "If that is his attitude, then he not worthy of you, Kristina."

"You don't know anything!" Kristina snapped. "He's a_ senior_. And he's _really_ popular."

Stefan raised a brow at her. "I take it those facts are supposed to be … impressive?" Kristina looked uncertain.

"I'm – I'm lucky to be with him –"

"That is complete and utter nonsense. You are a Cassadine princess. Your ancestors were ruling the earth while his were toiling in the fields. Brilliance and majesty dwell in your blood. Any foolish young boy that you deign to waste your valuable time with should worship the ground you walk on and consider himself to be the lucky one. He should also understand that if he dares to cross you in anyway, he will be destroyed."

Kristina stared at her uncle. No man had ever described her that way, like so someone so … worthy. It was both thrilling and confusing, like listening to a beautiful song sung in a language she didn't understand. But the last part troubled her.

"'Destroyed?' You mean like, put a hit out on him?" she asked in disgust. "That's something my father would do."

"No, that is not what I meant. It is much too –"

"Drastic?"

"Pedestrian. I meant for you to decimate him for his disloyalty. Humiliate him. Destroy him from the inside out."

"I - I don't even know if Keifer's with any other girl."

"But if he is? Will you allow his transgression to pass? Or will you own your birthright and show him the consequences of disrespecting a Cassadine?" Kristina's eyes widened.

"How … how would I show him the consequences?"

Stefan smiled at her slightly; the expression was conspiratorial, with just a hint of the sinister. Her mother would have recognized it instantly, from all the times they plotted together, but Kristina did not. Still, she reacted the same way her mother usually did: a combination of fascination, apprehension, and furtive excitement.

He leaned down to whisper the plan in her ear. It felt good to be helping her, and she had no doubt that she could execute his instructions successfully, as Alexis always had. He relished being the one to introduce her to her own power.

***

"Alexis?" Stefan stood in the doorway. The day was winding down. Molly was polishing off _The Odyssey_, after promises from her uncle that he would start teaching her Greek so she could read it again in the original language. Kristina had left the island, with her mother's reluctant permission and under heavy guard, to meet with that unworthy little boyfriend of hers; Stefan had no doubt she would make him proud.. Samantha had also gone, presumably to meet her equally unsuitable paramour, having just finished (from what he could see) a very emotional conversation with her mother.

Alexis wiped a few stray tears away and attempted a smile.

"It's done. How did you get her to ask?"

"Nikolas." Alexis' eyes widened. "I had him encourage her to ask you."

"I'm surprised he agreed to that."

"It took some … convincing," Stefan conceded. He hesitated, and then sat down next to his sister.

"You did what you had to do. Never forget that." He put his arm around her, and she leaned into his embrace, taking silent comfort in his presence, his reassurance.

"Everything will be all right. Don't worry."

"Uncle Stefan, Uncle Stefan, it _worked_! I pulled it off, it was such a rush – Oh, sorry."

Kristina had burst into the room, flushed and triumphant, eager to share her success at humiliating Keifer, but was considerably subdued by the sight before her. Her mother was obviously upset, and the way Uncle Stefan held her reminded Kristina of … well, the way her mother held _her_.

"Is everything okay?" Kristina's question was directed at her mother, but Stefan answered for her.

"Everything is fine, Kristina, your mother is just tired," he assured her, as Alexis hastily composed herself.

"He's right, honey, I'm fine," her mother said, slipping into the calm, collected demeanor that was so familiar to her daughter. "Now, what exactly did you 'pull off?'"

Kristina looked from Stefan to Alexis, her expression uncertain. "Um, Uncle Stefan was just helping me with –"

"A school project," Stefan finished for her hastily, as she rapidly nodded her headed. Alexis narrowed her eyes at her brother.

"Stefan?" He gave her his most guileless look.

"What?"

She looked between them. Stefan's face was inscrutable, but Kristina's face was telling.

"Okay, one of you needs to tell me what's really going on. Now."

"It was _his_ idea!"

Stefan sighed. Kristina was obviously a very capable young woman, but she needed to learn how to remain stoic under pressure. "I merely assisted Kristina in dealing with that unsavory little boy she has been associating with."

"He was cheating on me," Kristina added quickly. Exacting revenge had pretty much soothed the sting of his betrayal; however, that didn't mean she couldn't pull out misty eyes and a quivering bottom lip if it meant staying out of trouble. And for a moment, it seemed to work.

"Oh honey, I'm so sorry – wait. Stefan, tell me you did not show her how to poison his drink!"

"It wasn't poison!" Stefan said indignantly, but Alexis continued to glare at him. "That is … well, I suppose it depends on exactly how you define the term. But judging from Kristina's elation, I presume it was effective for its purposes." Kristina forgot about her sad, get-out-trouble face and giggled, nodding eagerly, her pleased expression soon fading under her mother's stern glare.

"Oh come on, mom. It's not a big deal. It just made him a little, you know … sick to his stomach. All over that stupid twit he was hanging on." Unable to suppress her mirth, Kristina started laughing again.

"And then," she continued, "the twit ran outside, shouting horrible things about him …oh did I mention half the school hangs out around that coffee shop?" She laughed harder. Stefan snickered beside Alexis, who was desperately trying to continue giving them both disapproving looks, despite her own growing amusement.

"I took the opportunity to tell him we over, and people starting applauding," Kristina finished gleefully. Stefan nodded in approval. Meanwhile, Alexis was biting her lip as she pointed her finger at her daughter.

"Kristina, that is not – I didn't raise you to – Stefan, damn it!" she looked at both of them, their matching mirthful expressions, and she stopped trying to be angry, as they all simultaneously broke into laughter.

"So – So I'm not in trouble, right?" Kristina said, after they had all calmed down, sitting beside her mother and uncle.

"Not this time. But if you _ever_ do something like that again …" she pointed her finger at her again, and then pointed it at Stefan. "And Stefan … if you ever …"

"What did I do wrong?" Stefan smirked at her. "I was merely supplementing her education, the same as I did for you." Kristina's eyes widened. "Alexis, don't you remember when I showed _you_ how to –"

"Okay, okay, that's enough. Both of you are off the hook. Now, let's just put it all behind us."

"Of course. Kristina, I trust the next time you decide to grace a young man with your presence, you will select someone more worthy." Kristina laughed again.

"Someone who worships the ground I walk on? Sorry, Uncle Stefan, but I don't think boys like that exist. But thank you." She hesitated, then hugged her uncle and kissed his cheek, much as Molly had. And in much the same way, the gesture of affection both startled and pleased him.

"I'm going to go do my homework. See you guys at dinner." She left the room. Stefan looked at Alexis.

"You're not still irked at my interference, are you?"

"I should be, but …" Alexis shook her head. "I should have paid better attention to what was going on between Kristina and Keifer. I was stupid enough to think that boy was good for her."

_Yes well, she apparently has the same unfortunate tasted in men that you do._ But Stefan was not foolish enough to vocalize that thought. She smiled at him.

"Kristina and Molly adore you, you know. Even after so brief a time, they've become quite attached." Stefan shrugged.

"Well, it's genetic." Alexis' expression grew more serious.

"I don't think Sam feels the same way, though."

"Also genetic," Stefan said without thinking. He instantly regretting his words, as Alexis gave him a look that was equal parts indignant and pained.

"Oh god, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that." Alexis sighed.

"It's okay." And it was. Valetin was still a looming threat; she had more important things to worry about than a hurtful slip of the tongue.

***

"Hey there, friend. What can I get for you?"

"Scotch on the rocks."

"Coming right up. Hmm, come to think of it, Scotch sounds pretty good right about now." But then, it had sounded pretty good a few hours ago, when Luke had started drinking, trying to erase the smug smirk of 'Count Vlad' from his mind. He was finding it increasingly difficult to keep his promise to Alexis. Granted, he'd always liked her, but _still_ …

"Aren't you supposed to be avoiding alcohol? You know, with that uh," Sonny paused, "heart condition?"

"Aren't _you_ supposed to be avoiding alcohol?" Luke shot back. "You know, with those uh, anti-depressants you're taking? Or mood stabilizers? Or whatever the hell you're taking for bipolar disorder?"

"Touché." Luke had already poured them each a glass, and they clinked them together before they each took hearty swigs. "Though I gotta say, Luke, it looks like you've already been indulging against doctor's orders for a while now. Something on your mind?"

Luke downed the rest of his drink in one gulp. Despite the ample amount of booze in his system, he still felt pretty clear-headed. But if Alexis later asked him why he broke his word, as he hemmed and hawed but eventually dropped the news of Stefan Cassadine _not _being dead on his dear friend, he planned to blame it on the Scotch. Or the whiskey. Or the bourbon. He planned on getting pretty wasted before the night was out.

***

"Gracious greetings, fair Samantha. Alas, Stone Cold is currently on assignment for Mr. Sir, but I can tell him of your visit if you wish."

"Actually, Spinelli, I came to see you." The young man reacted with pleased surprise. "I need your help."

"Of course, what can I do for my dear friend?"

Samantha took a deep breath. "I need you to research some information, and verify its authenticity." As much as she hated to doubt her, there was something in Alexis' attitude when she told Sam about her father, Seth Lane Witlow, which left lingering doubts in her mind. She loved her mother, she really did, but she wouldn't put it past her to engage in deception in a misguided attempt to "protect" her.

Witlow just seemed too good to be true. Until his death, he had been a model human being: an exceptional student who went on to run a charity organization as an adult, before dying tragically in a car accident.

Honestly, she had expected her father to be someone more like Sonny Corinthos, a powerful man who skirted the law, a "bad boy" with a good heart. Her mother had fallen for this type in her adult life, and it wasn't a stretch to assume the pattern had formed in her youth. She didn't want to believe it, but perhaps her mother had given her a "better" father in the hopes of shielding her from the "bad" one.

But Sam didn't care if her father was the head of a charity group, a mob boss, or even a prison inmate. She just wanted to know the truth. And she was less and less certain that her mother had given it to her.

She provided Spinelli with the information, and asked him not to tell Jason about it. He seemed nonplussed, but quickly agreed. Sam was grateful for this. Though she was already keeping a secret from Jason, and she didn't like it, this was different. This was her secret to keep, and she didn't want to share it just yet, not until she knew more. It still stung that Alexis had once tried to keep her and Jason apart; she would not let Alexis do the same thing if her father was still somewhere out there, alive. She would not fall prey to any more of her mother's tender manipulations.


	17. Chapter 16

Little Sister

Chapter 16: Before the Fall

"Sonny, what are you doing here? Look, if you want to see Kristina, she's already sleeping… what?" Sonny's expression was as dark as he'd ever seen it.

"Where is he, Nikolas?"

_Oh no. Oh no. _"What? Who?"

Sonny's voice dropped to a deadly whisper. "You know exactly _what_ and _who_ I'm talking about."

"No I don't –"

"Don't lie to me!" Sonny yelled at him. But before he could say more, Nikolas took the offensive.

"Sonny, what the hell do you think you're doing? Look, I realize our families will always be connected because of Spencer, and because of Kristina, and Molly, but that does not give you the right to barge into my home in the middle of the night, uninvited, accusing me of god knows what –"

"ENOUGH!" Sonny shouted. "Where's Stefan? You tell me now!" Nikolas swallowed.

"What the … he's … he's where we buried him, Sonny!"

"That's not what Luke told me." _Son of a…_

"I see," Nikolas said, working hard to maintain his calm. "And was he sober at the time he imparted this information?"

"Oh, don't you do that, don't you try to make me doubt it. I know he's alive, and he's probably here right now. How could help him, Nikolas? After what he tried to do to Emily? I thought she was the love of your life!"

Nikolas' lip curled in disgust. It still pained him to remember that his beloved Emily had been with Sonny Corinthos. Not that he had been in any position to judge or feel betrayed, but still, he wished she had picked someone more worthy.

Sonny pulled out a gun, but Nikolas refused to be intimidated.

"What is this, Sonny? Are you drunk, are you off your medications? Is that why it's so easy for you to buy Luke's nonsensical ramblings? Stefan is _dead_! Will you deprive your nephew of his father and your daughter of her cousin over something that's not even true?"

"I know what the truth is!" Sonny snapped.

"Then point your weapon at its proper target," Stefan said.

Both Nikolas and Sonny turned at the sound of his voice. Stefan was very proud of his nephew in that moment; his calm demeanor, his attempts to bluff while the manic mobster waved a gun in his face – he was showing remarkable grace under pressure. But it was not fair; this was not his burden to bear.

Sonny complied, and trained his gun on Stefan, who calmly walked closer to him, until he was standing between Corinthos and Nikolas, shielding his nephew as best he could. Sonny shook his head.

"I can't believe Alexis helped you after what you did."

"The bond I share with my sister is something you will never understand, Corinthos. And for my part, I cannot believe Alexis ever saw you as worthy of her company, much less her affections. Kristina is the only good thing to result from your –"

"Don't talk about my daughter!"

"Dad?" Sonny was shocked; it seemed he blinked, and she was there. Clad in flannel pajamas, looking younger than her sixteen years, she gasped in horror as she took in the scene before here; her father, holding her Uncle Stefan at gunpoint. "What are you doing?"

The gun started to shake in Sonny's hand. "Kris … Kristina." He breathed. "You need to get out of here."

"Why? So you can murder my uncle?"

"Your father is right, little one –"

"Don't you talk to her!" Sonny shouted. Kristina began to cry, and as she ran towards her uncle, Nikolas tried unsuccessfully to pull her back.

"No, Kristina, wait – "

She stood between her uncle and father, sobbing uncontrollably. Stefan reached out and pulled her back, trying to get her behind him.

"Don't you touch her!"

"Don't tell him not to touch me!" Kristina shouted through her tears. "He's trying to protect me from _you_." The look on Corinthos' face, as he realized his own child was actually afraid of him, almost made Stefan pity the man.

Almost.

"Kristina," Sonny said, his voice breaking, "You don't know - you don't know the awful things he's done!"

"I don't _care_!" Kristina shouted, near hysterical. "Like you haven't done things just as bad, or worse? At least he's sorry. At least he did those things out of love! Why do _you _do the awful things you do, _dad_? For money, for power? Not for Michael or Morgan, and certainly not for me. You don't give a damn about me!"

"That's not true!"

"Yes it is! You can say you love me all you want, but your actions speak louder than all your empty words! I come in last with you. But not with Uncle Stefan. He's cared about me more in the short time he's been here than you have my whole life!"

Kristina's words seem to completely take the fight out of Sonny. He lowered the gun, his whole body shaking; Stefan was surprised he didn't fall to the ground. He had no doubt Corinthos was a poor excuse for a father, but he knew his love for Kristina was as deep as it was sincere; he was absolutely devastated by what she had said. If he did not love his daughter, her words would not have affected him so.

Nikolas walked cautiously across the room, towards Sonny. They looked at each other for a long moment, Sonny's eyes full of pain, and then he silently handed Nikolas the gun.

"Kristina –" Sonny gasped.

"Stay away from me," she whispered. She wrapped her arms around her uncle, sobbing into his shoulder, and Stefan hugged her to him, muttering words of comfort. Over her head, his eyes locked with Sonny's.

"None of us are blameless, Corinthos. Do not think I count myself among the innocent. But Valentin is a great far greater threat than the one you think I pose. He is why I am here. I want what you want; to protect those that I love. For once, we are on the same side."

***

Sam walked back into Wyndemere. She had decided to return and retire for the evening, since Spinelli had said it might take several days for him to work on the documents. She entered the main living room and was smack in the middle of a scene she could only describe as "bizarre." And with the family she'd found herself in, that was saying something.

Sonny was sitting on the couch, his head in his hands. Nikolas was holding a gun, looking as if he didn't quite know what do with it. Kristina was sobbing in Stefan's arms, and only lifted up her head when Sam demanded, "What the hell happened?"

"My dad was going to shoot my uncle, that's what happened! Oh god, our family is so screwed up…" Kristina disentangled herself from her uncle's embrace and ran straight into Sam's, who looked at Stefan over Kristina's head as she hugged her.

"I believe that is an accurate assessment. Apparently, Luke Spencer broke his word to your mother, which is hardly a surprise, and this is the result. However, I think things are a bit calmer now. Samantha, do you perhaps know how to empty the clip from a gun? I mean, other than the obvious method, of course. I do not think a loaded weapon helps the situation."

Sam couldn't help but be a little impressed by Stefan's composure. One thing you had to say about the Cassadines: they were cool under pressure. So was she. She supposed it could be genetic. But then, at least at present, poor Kristina did not appear to have this trait.

"Krissy, it's okay, it's all fine now," Sam said, patting her sister's back and gently releasing her. Kristina sniffled, attempting to calm down. She took a few deep breaths, nodding at Sam, and went back to stand next to her uncle, who put a comforting hand on her shoulder. Sam took the gun from Nikolas' awkward grasp and took care of it. She let out a breath that she felt like she'd been holding in since she entered the room.

"Okay, so … I guess someone has to go wake up Alexis." Stefan nodded and started to walk away.

"I'll do it –"

"No! Don't leave me, please." He looked at Kristina in surprise. He had presumed now that Samantha was here, she would have preferred the comfort of a more familiar family member. He found himself quite touched that she wanted him to stay.

It was also eerily familiar. How many times had he dried Alexis' tears? How many times had he stayed with her when she was afraid?

"It's fine. I'll get her," Sam said, and strode purposefully to the room her mother was occupying in the house.

After that, it seemed things happened very quickly. Sam tried to wake her mother up gently, but the explanation of what had happened soon had Alexis alert, if not downright panicky. And somehow, although no one roused her, Molly woke up, trailing after her mother and sister as she demanded to know what was going on. Kristina blurted out what had happened as Molly entered the room with them, and Molly's eyes bugged out.

"Uncle Stefan? Uncle Sonny? " Oh yes, that was right. Molly was also related to Corinthos, through Lansing. And even Nikolas' son was his nephew … Stefan found it quite disheartening that the blood of that unworthy little mobster had become so entangled with his own family's.

"It's okay, Molly," Alexis said, although she sounded far from certain. "I'm sure it was just a … disagreement. Oh, Kristina, honey…" She went over and hugged her daughter.

"Mom, it's okay, I'm okay now." Sonny finally looked up at the sound of Alexis' voice.

"Alexis, how could you help him? How could let him turn my own daughter against me?"

Alexis turned to Sonny, her eyes blazing.

"Now, you listen to me, Sonny Corinthos. You should be damn grateful to Stefan, because if it hadn't been for him, I wouldn't have survived long enough to even meet you, much less have your daughter. As for Kristina being upset with you, well, maybe it has something to do with you waving a gun in the faces of her family members. And _our _daughter hasn't turned against you; she obviously still loves you, or the insane thing that you just did wouldn't hurt so much."

Sonny opened his mouth, but the angry retort died in his throat. He dropped his head, defeated, and Alexis could not help but feel a flicker of sympathy in the face of his anguish. That had been friends, once upon a time, good friends, and, for the briefest of moments, perhaps something more. She did not relish seeing him suffer, and though she had distanced Kristina from him, it was only to keep her daughter safe. She did not want Kristina to hate him, or think he didn't love her.

Stefan leaned over to whisper in his sister's ear. Her eyes widened, but then she appeared to consider his words, and nodded as if seeing the wisdom of them.

"Alright," Alexis said in a slightly raised voice, "everyone except Sonny and Kristina, clear out." They all turned to stare at her. Sonny in particular looked shocked.

"Alexis?"

"Mom?"

"The two of you need to talk this thing out," Alexis said. "Sonny, I know you love your daughter, even if you don't always go about …expressing it the right way, and Kristina, I know you love your father, even if you're upset with him right now. You're not the only one." Kristina looked at her mother in confusion.

"The only one who's upset with him, or the only one who loves him?"

"The former of course," Stefan snapped before Alexis could clarify.

"What is this, Alexis, you let him speak for you now?" Stefan glared at him.

"Contrary to your grandiose delusions, Corinthos, every woman who has had the misfortune of falling into your bed does not subsequently possess undying love for you; quite the opposite, in fact –"

"That's enough!" Alexis shouted. "Both of you. Now I meant what I said. Everyone, out! Now."

Stefan turned to Kristina. "Remember what I said, little one, about your father." She nodded.

"I know, he's no good at deception. I … I thought I was too old, for you to call me 'little one.'" He smiled.

"Not under these circumstances."

"Hey, 'little one' is my nickname, Kristina, get your own!" Kristina looked at her sister in surprise, only to find Molly smiling. She smiled weakly back at her, appreciating her attempt to inject a bit of humor and warmth into a painful moment.

"Give your father a chance to explain," Alexis said softly. Stefan nodded reluctantly in agreement with her, before he turned and left the room with the rest of the family.

"Well," Nikolas said softly to Sam, as they closed the doors behind him. "That could've gone worse, I suppose." Sam looked at him disbelievingly.

"How?"

"Oh, I don't know. Spencer could've woken up."

***

Kristina looked at her father for a moment. Slowly, she walked over to the couch and sat down beside him. Sonny noticed that she didn't sit too close. She folded her arms across her chest, her eyes dark as she silently dared him to speak. But in an odd sort of way, Sonny took comfort in her expression. He knew she was trying to act tough, trying to look stronger than she felt.

He knew this because he'd done it many times himself.

He supposed he should talk now. He'd start with something simple.

"I love you." He said. Nothing. Kristina's expression didn't change. He swallowed. "Look, whatever Stefan told you, you have to know that I –"

"Uncle Stefan never said you didn't love me. He kind of said the opposite in fact."

Sonny blinked. "What?"

"He um … he basically said you were too stupid to pretend to care about me, so you must actually care."

Sonny sighed. "Oh. Well how nice of him." Kristina should her head.

"He's not as bad as you think. He actually helped me with Keifer."

Immediately, Sonny was on alert. "What did Keifer do to you?!" Kristina flinched as he raised his voice.

"Nothing! Nothing you need to kill him for, anyway. Besides, it's fine. He was with another girl, but it's okay now. I made sure he paid. Uncle Stefan showed me how."

"Wait, what?"

And so Kristina told him the story. As she spoke, her arms un-crossed, and both her expression and her mood lightened considerably. By the time she finished, a miraculous thing had happened. Her father was actually _smiling_. Flashing his famous dimples, it seemed he was almost proud of her. He even laughed a little bit. For a moment, she could almost forget who he was and what he'd done. He was just her father.

She wished it could last forever.

"I'm glad … someone … helped you deal with it." _I just wish it was me. _

"You're … you're not going to kill him, are you?"

"Who? Stefan or Keifer?"

"Both. Either."

"I'm not killing anyone. But if Keifer ever bothers you again…"

"He won't." Sonny was surprised by the absolute confidence with which she said this. She gave him a smile that was almost a smirk. "Dad, don't you know? No one messes with a Cassadine."

"I got news for you, kid. No one messes with a Corinthos either." Sonny grinned. Then they became serious again.

"You know I love you, right? You do believe that?"

"I know," Kristina said softly. "I … I love you too dad."

They hugged, but when they pulled apart, Kristina had an expression that her father couldn't fathom.

"Dad, can I ask you something?"

"Anything." _As long as it's not about my business._

"Did you ever love mom?"

The question took him by surprise. Sonny sat back, ran his hands over his face, and sighed. "Oh. Um, okay, you … you deserve the answer an answer to that question. And honestly, the only answer I have to give you is … I don't know."

Kristina looked at him incredulously. "You don't know?"

"Look, your mother and I … I know you see us these days, and sometimes we argue a lot, but … what you need to know is that I have always respected her. I may not have agreed with all of her choices, but that doesn't mean I …listen, when I first met your mom, she was a great lawyer, and I wanted to have the best representation possible, so I convinced her to take me on as a client. Over time, she became my friend, my good friend. She helped me out of some dark places, and I had her back when she needed me. Things just … happened between us that neither of us expected. But we're both damn lucky they did happen, because what we got out of it was the best thing possible – you. Never doubt that."

Kristina let out a breath, and a sort of calm seemed to settle over her. She was not a romantic like her sister, and she had no delusions that the coming together of her parents had been some sort of grand romance for the ages. Even so, it was nice to hear that they hadn't always been at odds. It was a relief that they didn't hate each other now, and nice to think they might actually still be friends.

***

"Sir, she's having the documents on Witlow traced."

"Interesting. And who did she recruit for this task?"

"Well apparently, Morgan employs a young man with considerable technological expertise. He's discrediting the papers as we speak." Valentin smiled. So, Samantha had not taken her mother at her word. She was suspicious, even of her own family. _Especially _of her own family.

That proved she was a Cassadine through and through.

And she was playing right into his hands.

"Excellent. See that Stefan's forged death certificate, and the payments to her 'husbands' are discovered as well. It would be an added bonus if you could link the lawyer he sent her for the last 'husband' to the family accounts." Valentin was like Stefan in one way at least; he gathered information meticulously, and paid strict attention to detail.

It hadn't been that difficult to find it all out: not only had Stefan provided Alexis with false documents about her oldest daughter's "father," he had also known exactly who Samantha McCall was for her entire life. He, and not Mikkos, had put the death certificate in the adoption file, and he followed her life for years – all without Alexis' knowledge. It was almost too good, really. Almost too easy.

Not only would he destroy Samantha and Nikolas with the truth, he would also sever the supposedly unbreakable bond between his brother and sister. Alexis would never forgive him for keeping her from her little spawn. She would hate him forever.

And divided, they would fall.


	18. Chapter 17

Little Sister

Chapter 17: Divide and Conquer

"Stefan?" _Her voice is soft, barely above a whisper, but even so it jolts him awake; he has always been a light sleeper. He turns, blinking, and sees his little cousin Alexis standing there in her nightgown. Her eyes are wide, almost pleading. _

"Alexis? It's the middle of the night … what are you doing out of bed?"

"I had a bad dream," _Alexis whispers. Stefan sighs. Not this again._

"It was just a dream, Alexis. Go back to sleep." _He turns and pulls the covers back over himself, considering the conversation at an end. He's almost starting to nod off again when – _

"Stefan?" _He grunts in annoyance._

"What?"

"Can I … can I stay with you?" _Stefan growls in frustration as he faces her, sitting up in bed. _"No. Alexis, no," _he says emphatically, as she starts to protest. _"Alexis, listen. You are six years old now. And I am twelve. We are both too old for you to still be…" _He pauses. His little one's eyes are bigger than ever, and now, tears are trailing silently from them. Her bottom lip is quivering – _

"Oh fine!" _He snaps. _"Just … stop crying, all right?" _He pulls the covers down for her to get in. She sighs in relief as she slips into the bed._ "But this is the last time. I mean it. You understand that, Alexis?"

"Mmm-hmm, last time," _she mutters, snuggling to his chest, curling up like a kitten as he wraps his arms protectively around her. He's told her "last time" before, but this time he really needs to stick to it. The soft, innocent warmth of her little form next to his is comforting, but Alexis must learn not to let fear rule her; she cannot let every bad dream send her scurrying to him for "protection."_

_Besides, as they will both learn in the years to come, there are some nightmares he can't chase away._

"I'm sorry," _Alexis whispers, as if reading his thoughts._ "I shouldn't be so afraid. I shouldn't be weak. I should be strong like you." _He strokes her hair._

"Little one, you are stronger than you know," _he says softly._ "Now, say it again."

"Say what?"

"You know."

_She swallows, shivering. She knows what he means, but she does not like to think of Helena … or Stavros. Still, she's knows he's waiting. She has to say it._

"They will not break me."

"Good girl. Now go to sleep." _In the ensuing silence, he's about to drift off again, when her voice brings him back._

"Stefan?" _He sighs heavily._

"What now?"

"I love you, Stefan." _Oh great. Now he can't even be mad at her._

"I love you too, Alexis." _Even if you are sometimes very annoying. _"Now, _please_, really, go to sleep."

***

"Speaking of Spencer, I'm going to check on him," Nikolas said. Alexis nodded.

"And Molly, it's time for you to go back to bed – don't start now," her mother said warningly. "Say goodnight, please." Molly sighed.

"Okay," she said, hugging Stefan, Sam, and then Nikolas. "Goodnight everyone."

The three of them departed, leaving Sam and Stefan standing there. After a moment, Sam spoke.

"That was really big of you."

"I'm sorry?"

"Suggesting to Alexis that Sonny and Kristina talk things out."

Stefan shrugged. "He is her father."

"A fact you don't sound too pleased about."

"I have never made any secret of my distaste for Corinthos. And as you have seen, the feeling is mutual."

"Yeah. Um, did that start with my mother, or …"

Stefan sighed. "If you must know, it started because of his friendship with Luke Spencer." She titled her head at him, her expression thoughtful.

"You know, it's funny."

"What?"

"You hate Luke and Sonny, but my mother's managed to be friends with them both. That must irritate you." Stefan sighed.

"Well, your mother has not always exercised the best judgment in regards to … male companions."

"Have you ever liked any man my mother has associated with?"

"Why should I? She has never selected anyone even remotely stable –"

"What about Ned Ashton?" Stefan made a little noise of distaste.

"Ashton? You consider a man who tried to make my sister his _fifth_ wife to be someone who is stable? Though, I must say, he looks better in comparison to others."

"What about my father?"

The question shouldn't have startled him, but it did. Sam saw his jaw tense, his expression change – and then, almost instantly, a smooth blankness settled over his features.

"I did not know him," he said flatly. "All I knew was that Alexis was young, too young, and she had been seduced by him. I disliked him on principal."

Sam swallowed. She still remembered the look of horror that came over his face that night at the church, and she was no closer to understanding the reason behind it. She could ask him – but somehow, the words died in her throat. She would wait until Spinelli finished tracing the documents. In the meantime, she could ask her uncle something else.

"Do you think she … wanted to keep me?" Stefan stared at her.

"Of course she did. And you would never doubt it, if you saw how she was when she came home from the clinic …" he closed his eyes and shook his head. "I thought … I was afraid … she would never recover from the loss of you."

Sam's soft brown eyes were wide, almost pleading, willing herself to believe his words. For the first time, Stefan realized how much of her mother was in her.

The knowledge was comforting.

"What about Mikkos? Did he even care?" Stefan shrugged.

"I assume he did, but in all honesty, my father was a mystery to me until the day he died. I imagine your mother feels the same way."

"Thank you, for telling me about it," Sam said softly. Stefan nodded, and Sam turned to go.

"Samantha," he called after her, and she turned. "I meant … I meant to thank you as well."

"For what?"

"For ushering your sisters out of the room when Nikolas came in, the morning you first saw me here. It was very tactful of you." Sam gave him a small smile.

"You're welcome. You know, um … you could just call me Sam. I mean, just about everyone does."

"No, actually, I can't." Sam almost laughed; more than ever, she was seeing that there was a formality about him that neither her mother nor Nikolas completely shared. She didn't know if it came from his being the de facto head of the family for all those years, or because he had spent more time steeped in the Cassadine traditions that her mother or cousin. She found she didn't mind it much, though. She'd certainly been called worse things than her proper name.

Just then, Sonny and Kristina emerged from the room. Sam was relieved to find her sister smiling; in fact, both she and Sonny looked a lot less tense than before.

"I've decided to let Kristina stay here," Corinthos announced. "Of course, I'll be sending some of my guards to Spoon Island, so if you got a problem with that …" Stefan resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"That's fine Sonny, just don't expect us to feed them," Nikolas said, as he walked back into the room.

"That's okay, they're not really caviar-and-pate kind of guys." Nikolas almost smirked.

"I'll bet."

"Is Spencer alright?" Sam asked.

"He's fine, fast asleep. Thanks for asking."

"Oh good, none of you have killed each other … oh Kristina, honey, I'm sorry," Alexis said, as she returned from putting Molly to bed.

"It's okay, mom. Is Molly alright?"

"She's fine; she's back in bed, which is where you should be." Kristina nodded. For once, she didn't want to argue with her mother. After all that had just happened, she felt drained, and she wanted to rest.

"Goodnight, Dad." She and Sonny hugged.

"I'm gonna come visit you again real soon, okay?"

"Fine. Just leave the gun."

"And take the canolli," Sam added, as everyone turned to look at her. "What? It's from 'The Godfather.' You know, 'Leave the gun, take the canolli?' Come on, I can't be the only one here who's seen that movie…"

For a moment, there was dead silence. Then Kristina started laughing, followed by Sonny. Alexis put her hand over her mouth, shaking her head, Nikolas snickered, and even Stefan looked mildly amused.

"Okay, and on that note, let's all call it a night," Nikolas said. He hesitated, then reached out and shook Sonny's hand. Kristina looked at her father, and then at her uncle, pointedly. Inwardly sighing, Stefan stepped forward and held out his hand to Sonny. His displeased expression matched Sonny's own, but the two men shook hands as well. Kristina looked relieved.

"Alexis, I'll call you, tomorrow, to arrange my next visit," Sonny said to her, and she nodded. Surprising her, he pulled her into a quick hug. "Thanks for letting me straighten things out with our daughter," he said. Alexis smiled slightly.

"You're welcome." Out of the corner of her eye, Sam noticed Stefan was struggling to hide his distaste. She could almost hear him thinking, "Get your hands off my sister!"

"Walk me to the launch?" Sonny asked Alexis, deliberately ignoring the exasperated noise Stefan made. She shrugged.

"Alright."

Later, when she had put on her pajamas and slipped into bed, Sam found herself tossing and turning, unable to sleep. More than ever, she was convinced that Witlow wasn't her father. It would make much more sense for a young Alexis to be drawn to someone dark and dangerous … like Stefan.

She knew that many girls and women were attracted to, and even fell in love with, men who reminded them of their fathers. She also knew that Stefan had held the place of "father" in Alexis' life more than Mikkos ever had. When she thought about it, it explained a lot of things … like why her mother had been attracted to Sonny.

Both men would hate her for making the comparison, but when you thought about it, there were actually a lot of similarities. Both had difficult childhoods with domineering adults (Helena, Deke) hurting them and those they cared about. Both men had struggled to obtain power – Stefan had battled Helena for control of the family, while Sonny had clawed his way into organized crime. Both men could be ruthless, deadly, obsessive, and were highly intolerant of anything they perceived as betrayal. Yet, conversely, both men could be kind, generous, protective, extremely loyal, and capable of great love.

The main differences that Sam could see were in their approaches. Whereas Sonny was impulsive, often to the point of being reckless, Stefan was patient and methodical. Whereas Sonny often let his emotions rule him, Stefan kept a tight check on his feelings, sometimes to the point of being cold. Stefan was subtle; Sonny was obvious. Stefan was polished; Sonny was rough. And yet, Sam could see enough similarities to explain why her mother had become interested in Sonny, and why the line between personal and professional had blurred so thoroughly between them.

Her father, she was convinced, must have been someone like that. Witlow was just too "good" for her mother to have found attractive. She remembered being drawn to "bad boy" types too, when she had been a teenager. It wasn't a stretch to think her mother had been the same.

Sam sighed, closing her eyes and willing her body to relax. When Spinelli had pressed her, she had confessed to him that the documents were about her supposed father. He had then assured her that he would work all the more diligently on investigating them. Tomorrow she would call and check on his progress. For now, she needed sleep.

***

"Mmm?" Sam shifted in bed, stirring at the ringing sound. She yawned, stretched, and reluctantly opened her eyes, grabbing her cell phone from the night stand.

"What?" She asked groggily.

"Greetings, fair Samantha … oh, my apologies, did I wake you? It's almost 10 o'clock; I assumed you would be up and about by now."

Sam hadn't realized it was 10 already; she must have been more tired than she thought.

"No, Spinelli, it's okay. Did you find something out?"

There was a pause, and she could hear Spinelli draw in his breath on the other end of the line. "I … I think I found out … everything." Sam sat up in bed.

"Everything? Wait, Spinelli, what does that mean?"

"With all the respect that is due to my dear friend, I don't believe this is a conversation you want to have over the phone. If you'd be so kind as to come to casa de Stone Cold at your earliest convenience, I promise I'll show you all that I have learned. Oh, and Stone Cold is out on assignment for the day, so you will have your privacy," he added, correctly interpreting Sam's silence.

Sam took a deep breath. "I'm on my way over, alright? I'll see you soon," she said, and hung up. She jumped out of bed, showered quickly, and dressed. She willed herself to act normal as she strolled through the main room, where her family was apparently in the middle of breakfast.

"Hi Sam, want a bagel?" Molly asked. Sam smiled tightly.

"Um, actually Jason called, and he needs me for something, so I'll be heading out…"

"But you haven't even eaten!" Kristina protested.

"It's fine, I'll just grab something on the way. See you guys later!" Before anyone could say anything else, Sam was dashing out of the house towards the launch. Nikolas and Alexis exchanged looks.

"I hate how she's always at his beck and call," Nikolas muttered. Alexis shrugged.

"Well, what can we do? I tried to keep her away from him, and look how that turned out."

***

"Hi, Spinelli," Sam said. If she wasn't already tense, his expression would've done it. Normally, her odd but loyal friend would greet her with a warm smile. But now, his face was as serious as she'd ever seen it.

"You uh, you might want to sit down for this." Sam sat down, and Spinelli took a deep breath.

"First and foremost, I regret to inform you that your suspicions were correct. There is no possible way that Seth Lane Witlow could be your father."

"The documents were forged?"

"No, they were all accurate … except the medical records. Apparently, this man had a genetically inherited condition that rendered him sterile. Not that he couldn't … ahem … perform the actions of procreation, if you see my meaning, but in his case, such actions would never result in a child."

"There's not even a possibility that he could have –"

"No," Spinelli shook his head. "The medical records are very clear."

"Well," Sam said slowly, "It's very …disheartening … that my mother would lie to me, but it's not exactly unexpected." But unexpected or not, it hurt just as much, and it made her just as angry. "Did you … find out who my father really is?"

"No, I did not. But I found out …" He paused.

"What, Spinelli? Just spit it out."

"Samantha, my friend … I know you have done things you are not proud of, simply to survive, and to help your brother. Those men that you married under false pretenses …"

"Why are you bringing this up? What does this have to with anything?"

"Your former husbands were paid off with Cassadine money," Spinelli burst out. Sam gasped.

"That's not possible…"

Spinelli handed her some print-outs. "I have all the documentation verified." She looked through the papers, her eyes wide with shock. "There are also records that the lawyer that sent after the … incident … with Bill Monroe was on retainer to the Cassadine family."

Sam shook her head, her whole body shaking.

"And I'm afraid there's more. The forged death certificate in your adoption file was not placed there by Mikkos Cassadine. It could not have been, because it was placed there after his death."

"So who …?" But Sam already knew the answer. _Stefan_. All these years, he had known _exactly_ who she was. Alexis hadn't, but he had. If it all hadn't been so horrible, she would almost have laughed at the irony.

Her mother was trying to keep her from her father, probably with Stefan's help. And all these years, Stefan had tried to keep Alexis from finding _her_.

"I know. I know who did this," she whispered, her head in her hands.

She was furious with them both. She left immediately, ignoring Spinelli's pleas to calm down, to take some time before rushing off to a confrontation. She had been deceived; she had been betrayed. And like all Cassadines before her, betrayal was something for which she would not stand.

***

Sam found Alexis in the main living room, with Molly and Kristina. She wasted no time.

"I need to talk to you. Alone."

"Alright, Sam, just let the girls and I finish –"

"_Now_." Alexis flinched at her tone, and her sisters were startled. They'd never heard Sam speak to their mother with such coldness. Something was very wrong.

"Girls, you need to go now," Alexis whispered. For once, they left quickly. "And no listening at the door!" She called after them.

Alexis stood and turned to face her oldest daughter. Both of them had their arms crossed over their chests. Alexis swallowed, hoping her fears were not about to be confirmed, but knowing it was the most likely scenario.

"What is it, Sam?"

"You lied to me." Well, at least she wasn't beating around the bush. "That Witlow man is _not _my father."

"Why would you think that –"

"Spare me, _mother_! I had Spinelli check the documents. The guy was sterile his entire life! How could you lie to me about something like this?" Alexis started to cry.

"The … the part about your father being dead is true," she whispered. Sam laughed bitterly, shaking her head.

"How can I possibly believe that? How can you expect me to believe anything that you say, ever again?"

"Sam, please, I –"

"I don't want to hear it!" Her mother was sobbing now.

"Can't you just be mine?" Sam felt her own tears start to fall, blurring her vision. How could she ever trust Alexis again, and how could she ever find out the truth? She had to get out of there. But before she did …

"I think you should know something, _mother_. That death certificate in the adoption file … it wasn't forged by Mikkos. It was put there by your _dear _brother, Stefan." Alexis gasped.

"N-no…"

"Oh, but that's just the tip of the iceberg," Sam continued cruelly, wanting to hurt her mother as much as she'd hurt her. "He paid off all those men I conned into marrying me. He even paid for my defense attorney in the Bill Monroe trial. He knew who I was all those years that I was fighting, scheming, and scamming just so Danny and I could survive another day, and he did nothing but clean up after me, like I was some sort of … _animal _…polluting the perfect Cassadine bloodline. He's lied to you all these years – but I guess that's what we do in our family, isn't it? That's what passes for love."

"He wouldn't do that to me –"

"Ask him!" Sam shouted. "Ask your dear, darling brother! The man you deceived for, committed crimes for, _bled_ for, and see if you can believe the lies he tells you, like I'm supposed to believe all the lies you tell me! But I am done now! I am done." Sam wiped away her tears and stalked out of the room, leaving her mother trembling and broken, looking exactly the way she herself felt.

***

Alexis put her head in hands, trying to block it all out. But all the words, all the voices came rushing back.

Luke's voice: "Stefan says jump, you say, 'Off which cliff?'"

Ned's voice: "What has Stefan ever done for you except break your heart?"

Bobbie Spencer: "Did you ever have a voice of your own before you became his mouthpiece?"

The words of Stefan himself: "We are no longer children playing by the sea. We don't take turns in our little wooden dinghy. In this world, Alexis, I navigate, you row."

Even her own: "Do you know that I grew up constantly aware that I was at the mercy of your generosity? Do you have any idea how that made me feel, to always have to play servant to your master?"

"I should be grateful, I know I should be grateful, I'm _always_ grateful. I was grateful and happy just to walk in your shadow."

And the two of them, talking: "There was a time I would do anything for you, a brave little solider running right into the fray."

"And now?"

And now?

Now she wanted to wrap her fingers around his throat.

***

"Alexis?" Stefan entered the room, having sent the girls to the other side of the house. He had heard Samantha and Alexis arguing, but had not caught any of the words. Now, he saw his sister sitting on the couch, her shoulders shaking as she sobbed. He rushed over to her.

"Alexis, what happened?"

She raised her tear-streaked face to him. "Sam found out that Witlow isn't her father," she said hollowly. "She also found out …" Alexis paused.

"What?"

"Do you remember after college? Before I went to law school?" Alexis whispered. "You came to tell me he was dead. When I asked if you were certain, you said that you could show me his grave." Stefan swallowed. _No, not this. Anything but this._

"And you asked if we could dance on it," he said. Alexis smiled bitterly.

"And then I told you I wanted to find my daughter … and you said no. You _convinced_ me not to go looking for her. You made me believe that it would only hurt us both. And I listened to you. I _trusted_ you."

"Alexis …"

"And that wasn't the last time either, was it? After law school, I wanted to look … and you talked me out of it. After I came to Manhattan … after I came to Port Charles … and always, always, you convinced me not to. No, you _told_ me not to. And I did as you said. I always _obeyed_ your _orders_ … like a dog!" Her eyes blazing with fury, she rose up to face him, every inch her father's daughter.

"You knew, the entire time. You knew my daughter's name was Samantha McCall, and you knew the things that she was doing simply so that she and her brother could survive. You forged that death certificate, and you paid off the men she scammed, and you never told me one damn thing about any of it! Isn't that right, my _dear_ brother?"

"Yes," Stefan said. And then, Alexis did something she had never done, no matter how angry or hurt she had been by him in the past. This was, after all, the man who had been everything to her: mother and father and sister and brother and all she ever needed to know of family.

She slapped him hard across the face.

***

"Hello, Samantha."

Standing on the docks, Sam whipped around and pulled out a knife. Even in her emotionally fragile state, her reflexes were sharp, and Valentin's voice was unmistakable.

"Don't you come near me!" She screamed. Valentin merely smirked, circling her at a distance, his mad eyes dancing with glee and malice.

"You look upset, my darling niece. Did you find out about your mother's deception? And Stefan's as well, I hope?" Sam's eyes widened.

"You set it all up for Spinelli to find. You wanted me to know!" He grinned, nodding, while Sam shook her head.

"If you think that this means I'll throw in with you, become you ally –"

"Well, I suppose that would be a pleasant bonus. But my dearest Samantha, as matter of fact, I don't want anything from you at all. Except your pain. And the exquisite beauty of it is, I don't even have to lift a finger to see you suffer. All I have to do is give you what you so desperately, foolishly desire: the truth."

He saw the knife shake in her hand. Good, he was really getting to her. But she put on a brave show, laughing bitterly in his face.

"If I can't trust my own mother, what makes you think I'll believe anything you say?" She started to back away.

"The truth, Samantha!" he called after her, and she stopped in her tracks, both fearful and eager, unable to stop herself from hearing what he had to say.

"The truth," he said softly, his cruel grin spreading wide, "is that you are more a Cassadine than you know."


	19. Chapter 18

Little Sister

Chapter Eighteen: Ashes, Ashes

*Author's Note: Yes, my friends, this is_ finally_ it; the chapter that contains the reveal of Sam's paternity. Be warned: those of you have not guessed may be quite shocked; I really hope I don't lose readers over this. I didn't change the rating to M, because they are no explicit or graphic descriptions. That being said, I think this is the most emotionally brutal stuff I've ever written, and I've really struggled with it. I hope you still enjoy it, and will continue reading, because this is not the end.*

They were both shocked that she had done it.

Stefan touched his face where Alexis had struck him. Her eyes were wide, and she was breathing heavily.

"You had no right!" She shouted.

"I had every right!" Stefan shouted back at her. "Certainly more than you had, when you deceived _me_ for my own supposed good! Or have you once again conveniently forgotten all of your transgressions in regards to Katherine Bell –"

"You are unbelievable. You're actually going to compare your little blonde – Laura-substitute to _my_ _daughter_?"

"Oh, but the similarities are quite striking," Stefan said cruelly. "Remind me again why you objected to Katherine so vehemently? Her false identities, her endless blackmail schemes, her constant manipulations – does any of that sound familiar?" Alexis tried to strike him again, but he grabbed her hand, and she jerked it away.

"Don't you dare try and twist this around! Sam never would have had to do those things, she never would have had to suffer so if I had been there to take care of her! You _knew_, and you kept her from me!"

"I was protecting you!"

At those words, the heat of her fury seemed to drain out of her, replaced by something … colder. Observing the change, Stefan felt true dread curl in the pit of his stomach for the first time.

Alexis let out a bitter laugh. "Protecting me?" She asked softly. "Like you protected me that night?"

Stefan couldn't speak.

"You protected _Lasha_," she said. "You saved _Lasha_, you loved _Lasha_. _She_ got to leave the island and never come back – but me? My god, what – what did you think Stefan? What did you think he would do when he found out she was gone? Where did you think he would vent his rage? Who did you think he would take it on?"

For the first time, the balance of power between them was shifting, her suffering and his guilt tilting the scales away from his implicit dominance of her.

If she wasn't in so much pain, she might have actually enjoyed it.

His voice was low, shaky: "I never – I never thought that – god damn it Alexis, I told you and _told_ you no good would come of finding her! You – you were in pieces after it happened, and I put you back together! I didn't do that just to see you break apart again!"

"Why did you do it, then?" She whispered. "Why did you put me back together? Because I was your favorite toy?"

He looked at her in confusion. "What?"

The tears trailed town her cheeks, and the expression that twisted her face was somewhere between a sneer and a grimace. "That's what he called me," she whispered. "He said … he said that I was your favorite toy, and since you took _his_, and you weren't there for him to kill, he would have settle for … breaking me. I never … I never told you that before …"

"Stop it …"

"And I never told _him_," Alexis continued, undeterred. "I never told him your perfect little plan for getting Lasha … _Laura_ off the island. You always did love to dazzle me with your brilliance, remember? And when you told me, I was … properly impressed, as usual."

Now Stefan is crying at last. _Good._ He kept her daughter from her. He has hurt her, he has cut her deeper than he ever has before, and she has finally given herself the power and the permission to hurt him back.

"Alexis, please, stop …"

"All I told him was that … th-that he had been used and destroyed by a woman who didn't care anything at all about him," Alexis said, knowing he would recognize the words.

Her words took him back, back to the night he found out about her deception with Katherine, the night he stripped her of her medallion and banished her from the family. She had told him then, "You are ten times the man your brother ever was, but the same thing that happened to Stavros could have happened to you. You could have been used and destroyed by a woman who didn't care anything at all about you."

"I didn't want it to happen to you," she whispered, "because I loved you, I loved you so. But when it happened to Stavros, I was … I was _glad_ to see his pain, after everything he did to us. And I told him so. Stupid, right? Because that … that must have been his breaking point for him, don't you think? That must have been … when the last lingering shred of humanity and decency left him … if he even had any to begin with."

"Alexis, Alexis, god, just _please_ stop …"

"Why? Shouldn't you be _gratified_? Shouldn't you be _proud_ of me? Because you know, I never told him anything else but that. Not when he beat me, not when he _raped_ me. I kept your secrets. I was always, _always_ your good little girl, your brave little soldier. And yes, I was in pieces afterwards, so of course you put me back together, because how could you stand for your favorite _toy_ to stay broken? After all, with a few, _notable_ exceptions … you always took such good care of your THINGS!" She screamed the last few words at him, on the edge of hysteria.

Stefan fell back. He fell onto the ground with the shock of it, the weight of it all. He was devastated. She had devastated him.

That proved he really loved her. Sam had been right. _"That's what we do in our family, isn't it? That's what passes for love."_

"This … this time," Alexis gasped, surprised to find she still had a voice, "this time you don't even have to rip it off my neck." And indeed, she pulled it off herself, her Cassadine medallion, and threw it at him, as he sat there, sobbing, his head in his hands. "This time I'm the one who's done. This time _you_ are dead to _me_."

***

_Many years ago, Stefan and Alexis watched in horror as Stavros tortured a small bird. He had tormented small animals before, but not for a long time, and not to this extent. _

_His reflexes were always excellent – he seems to pluck it out of the air, grabbing it by the wing, jerking and swinging it about wildly, like some bizarre kind of dance. He snaps its wing, and then continues to torment as it hops helplessly about on the ground, until –_

"Stop it!" _Alexis shrieks, before Stefan can silence her._

_Stavros turns from his sport, his malicious glee changing into equally malicious anger. He stalks over to Alexis, and lightning-fast, grips her wrist, squeezing until she cries out in pain._

"Would you like me to do it to you instead, little mouse?"

"Stavros let go!" _Stefan shouts, as he tries desperately to break his brother's iron grip on his little one. Stavros grins._

"Not until she answers me."

"N-no…" _Alexis whimpers._

_Stefan pries his fingers off her wrist and pushes him away, placing himself between the two of them. When Stavros tries to get past him, he shoves him back with such force that he almost loses his balance and falls to the ground. They glare at each other, and then Stavros sneers._

"Oh, forget it. She's not worth me bruising my knuckles on your face. Though I must say," _he leers,_ "the little mouse appears to have _grown _in her time away at school, don't you agree, brother?"

"That's enough, Stavros." _But the older boy looks around his brother and makes eye contact with Alexis._

"Hmm, little mouse, do you know what will happen now that you've grown? Maybe some stupid little boy will actually look at you … and want to touch you … _taste_ you …"

"That's _enough_!"

"Fine," _Stavros smirks. He turns back to the bird, and for a moment, Stefan is transfixed. It is a beautiful creature, even broken as it now, pale and delicate. Perhaps one of their animal caretakers could heal it. Yes, that would probably make Alexis feel better –_

_In one swift movement, Stavros snaps the bird's neck._

"Don't cross me again, mouse," _he hisses as he leaves them. Alexis shudders, crossing her arms over her chest, as if trying to hide the woman's curves that have formed there. Stavros was crude but accurate – his little one _has _grown; she is not a child anymore. She is making the transition from child to woman. That change is difficult enough without Stavros making her feel …_

"Alexis," _Stefan says. Very gently, he takes her arms and uncrosses them, placing them down at her sides. _"Don't ever let Stavros make you feel ashamed of your own body. There is nothing wrong with you. You are just … growing up."

_Alexis nods shakily. Her eyes dart over the dead bird. _

"Don't," _Stefan says softly, gently taking her arm and drawing them both away from the awful sight. But even so, the image is something he can never erase from his mind: that fragile, beautiful little bird, broken and bleeding on the ground._

_It is how he finds her._

_His Lasha is gone. He has helped her escape Stavros and Helena and return to her true husband. It has pained him greatly, but he loves her – how could she refuse her request? He would have done anything she asked. She has promised to come back, for their Nikolas, and he believes her._

_But she never does._

_He returns to the house to tell Alexis of his success – and finds her slumped on the ground, her hair wild, her clothes torn asunder, bruised, bleeding, sobbing –_

"Alexis!"

"No, no, Stavros, get away –"

"Alexis, it's Stefan!"

"St-Stefan?"

"Oh my god, what did he do to you?" _But he already knows; it's obvious. With each passing second, his horror mounts. He never thought … he _never_ thought …_

"Alexis," _he says, his voice shaking_, "Alexis, it's all right, it's all right, I'm here –"

_He reaches out, to comfort her, and she … recoils._

"Don't touch me!"

_Something in him breaks at those words. Never before has she drawn away from him. Never before has she shrunk away from his touch. Stavros has broken her. He has broken her into little pieces. Of course he has; he breaks everything. Stavros destroys everything and everyone that Stefan loves._

"I'll … I'll kill him. I'LL KILL HIM!" _He runs from Alexis, whom he cannot comfort, stalking through the house until he finds his brother. Stavros is pouring himself a drink. He turns to face Stefan, grinning._

"Is the little mouse still where I left her?" _Stefan is shaking with rage._

"How … how could you?"

"Oh, it was very easy … well,_ she_ was very easy. Would you like me to describe –"

_Stefan punches him in the face. Stavros is stronger, and he is confident he can fight his brother off – but he had not counted on the strength of Stefan's fury, his complete loss of any kind of restraint or control. Even after Stavros is on the ground, unconscious, he keeps beating, he keeps hitting. He's not going to stop until –_

"No!" _Alexis shouts. He turns to see her standing there, clutching her tattered clothes around her. He looks at her wildly, splattered with Stavros' blood. _

"Alexis –"

"You can't kill him Stefan, no matter how much we both want you to! Because then Helena will kill _you_. And … and you can't do that to me! Please, please, you can't leave me all alone, I need you!"

_Gasping for breath, Stefan steps back from his brother. He and Alexis stare at each other. He reaches for her again, hesitantly, and this time, she collapses, sobbing into his arms._

_Later, he will send for the servants and tell them that Stavros had an "accident." They know better, but most of them hate the Prince as much as he does, so they make the arrangements to have him sent to a hospital on the mainland, where he is treated for several broken bones, various cuts and bruises, and a cracked rib. _

_Alexis refuses to go to the hospital. Once Stavros is gone, she spends what seems like hours in the bathroom, vomiting, showering – and when she finally emerges, dressed in her night clothes, it seems she is numb, in a sort of trance, not even acknowledging his presence in her room as she sits on the bed._

"Alexis?" _He says softly. She does not respond._ "Alexis, talk to me, please …"

_She looks at him, and her eyes silence him_. "How dare you speak to me," _her eyes seem to say,_ "How dare you expect me to talk, to carry on a conversation with you like nothing has happened."

_Defeated, her turns to leave the room. Alexis catches his hand. He turns to face her gaze again, and realizes he was wrong. It isn't fury in her eyes, it is … fear. Desperation._

_She pulls him down and curls into him. He rocks her back and forth like a child._ "Little one, little one …"

_It seems to take several hours, but she finally falls asleep. He does not – he _cannot_ – but even so, the sound of her deep, even breaths is some sort of comfort._

_She does not speak one more word until the end of the summer. Mikkos and Helena are away doing god knows what – trying out another plan for world domination, probably – and Stavros will be in the hospital indefinitely. _

_During this time, Alexis eats little and sleeps less – even in the safety of his embrace, she always jerks awake. He starts worrying that she will never speak again. But a few days before she is to leave for boarding school, she suddenly startles him with the sound of her voice._

"How am I supposed to go to school like this?" _Her voice is hollow and toneless, like an automaton. He turns from where he is helping her pack her things, and sees her staring at herself in the mirror. The marks are not as prominent as they once were, and the ones on her throat are easy to hide, but the cut on her cheek, and especially her black eye, are unmistakable._

"What do I tell people?"

"You … you had a riding accident."

_Alexis laughs. The sound of it is frightening._ "A riding accident? Haven't we used that one before? Honestly, you'd think I'd have learned to stay away from the horses by now…"

"Alexis…"

"What I am suppose to do?!" _She switches suddenly from calm to panic. _"How am I supposed to study and get perfect grades if everyone is staring and pointing, whispering about me?"

"You don't have to go. I could explain to Father that you're … sick … you need a semester off –"

"I can't do that!" _She screams._ "I have to be perfect, I have to be brilliant! He took away my innocence, he broke my body, I won't let him take my _mind_!"

_He clutches her to him and holds her until she calms down. After a long time, she pulls back and resolutely wipes away her tears._

"I won't let him take my mind," _she repeats in a more normal voice_. "I … I think I can cover this up with make-up." _He marvels at her strength. At least he hopes that's what it is. He hopes and prays that she is right, that she will not let him break her mind. He has tried so hard over these past two months to pick up her pieces and put her back together._

_Unfortunately, as he will soon realize when he visits her at the clinic, the shattering of her spirit is far from over._

_***_

"You are more a Cassadine than you know."

"What do you mean?" Sam asked him.

Valentin was delighted; Samantha looked completely baffled. She had absolutely no inkling or suspicion of the truth. It made all this even better.

"Didn't you ever wonder why Alexis was so desperate to keep you from finding out who your father is? Really, my dear, think about it. Why do you imagine she would do that?"

"Because she's a control freak," Sam said bitterly. "Because she gets to decide if my father is good enough and safe enough for me to know."

Valentin laughed out loud. "My _god_, you really think that's it?"

"Why not? She did it to my sister. She lied about Kristina's paternity for years to protect her from Sonny's dangerous lifestyle. Now she's tried to convince me that my father is a dead man who couldn't possibly have –"

"Oh, but don't you know? Every good lie contains a little truth. Your father being dead was the one true part. In fact, he had the unique distinction of dying twice." Sam looked even more confused.

"Twice?"

He drew closer to her. She backed away, the knife still in her hand.

"The first time he died," Valentin said softly, "it was many, many years ago – and it was at General Hospital, as a matter of fact. He died of a broken neck. The second time was more recent – he fell into a deep pit. Both times he died, it was at the hands of Luke Spencer."

"I … I don't understand…"

"Well, I thought you might not. I don't imagine your mother was too keen on repeating the story –"

"If you know who my father is, just spit it out already! I am tired of playing games!"

He sighed in mock-annoyance. "Very well," he grinned. "If you insist. Samantha, your father is Prince Stavros Nikolai Mikkosovich Cassadine."

The knife dropped from Sam's shaking hand. Her eyes were impossibly wide. Her mouth opened and closed a few times without being able to form a sound, much less a word. It was several moments before she remembered how to speak.

"That's – that's not…."

"Possible? Oh, but it is. Don't you know what Stavros did to Laura Spencer? Kidnapping her, telling her husband was dead, forcing her to marry him and bear his child? Do you really think he wasn't capable of forcing himself upon the poor little mouse of a girl he knew only as his distant cousin?"

"You're lying! I know you're lying!" She shouted. Her whole body was shaking now, the tears streaking her face – and he was so glad that he got to see it. He was so happy that he got to watch her break apart.

"No, I'm not. I had my suspicions, so when I held you captive, I ran DNA tests on both you and Nikolas, and I compared the two. You have_ far_ too many genetic markers in common to be merely cousins. Well, of course, you _are_ cousins – but you're half-siblings as well. Isn't that _twisted_?"

"You – you sick bastard! You're making this all up –"

"Then go back to Spoon Island and ask your mother!" Valentin shouted, his temper flaring in the face of her obstinate denial. "Ask your mother, and watch her try to deny it!"


	20. Chapter 19

Little Sister

Chapter Nineteen: We All Fall Down

*Author's Note: Thank goodness you guys are still reading! Fair warning: this chapter is just as intense as the last one, but I promise, there is a light at the end of the tunnel. Also, this chapter is very flash-back heavy, and remember, underlined text is from the actual show, so some of this stuff 'really' happened on GH, and I'm using it for my own purposes. Everything else, however, comes from my twisted little mind. Enjoy!*

"Stavros must have been a monster," _their newly found sister Kristina had said, contemplating the picture of him. In it, he looked handsome and deceptively harmless, holding his infant son Nikolas._

"Stavros was a demon from hell," _Alexis said._

"Cold, sadistic," _Stefan added._

"Even as a child he didn't have an ounce of compassion. He's in the bowels of the earth, which is exactly where he belongs," _Alexis finished._

***

_After Alexis is sent back to school, Stefan stands by his brother's bed side. He is sleeping; in a week or so, he will be released from the hospital, though he is not yet fully recovered. But before he leaves this place, Stefan has something to say to him._

"Stavros." _His eyes fly open, and he sits up in the bed, his arms reaching out to strike his brother. Stefan parries his weak blows and pins him down._

"Now, you listen to me," _Stefan hisses, his voice low and deadly. _"You will not speak a word of what happened to anyone. You will tell mother and father you had some sort of accident; I don't care what tale you spin as long as they believe you. You will never touch, see, or even _think_ of Alexis again as long as you live, and if you ever harm another hair on her head, I will finish what I started that night. I will break every bone is your body and make you choke on your own blood. Do you understand?"

_Stefan sees something in Stavros' eyes that it takes a minute for him to recognize, because he has never seen it there before: fear. For the first time in his life, Stavros recognizes that his little brother, the underestimated and neglected second son, is a force to be reckoned with. He swallows._

"I understand," _he says._

"Good," _Stefan says._ "We will never speak of this again." _He leaves._

_When Stavros was resurrected, Stefan was worried for Alexis, but she was not quite as worried for herself. After watching her mother die at the tender age of four and repressing it nearly all her life, she had become an expert at burying painful memories. Furthermore, she knew that as long as Laura was anywhere in the vicinity of their monstrous brother, all his attentions and energies would be on her, the object of his obsessive "love." And she had been right. In the entirety of his blessedly brief return to life, Stavros had uttered exactly one sentence to her – _"You are wasting your time, Alexis" – _before he died, that time for good._

_She pretended it never happened; they all did. When the memories threatened to send her into darkness, she always told herself that it was not her story. It was never her story. It was Laura's story, Luke's story, Nikolas' story – but not hers. She can go somewhere else, someplace deep inside her mind, where Stefan holds her and cradles her like a child, and she can watch from a distance as this story, one that she has no place in, plays out. She is not among them. She is not there._

She is here. She is here now. She has taken a few shaky steps away from Stefan, and she too has collapsed to the ground. Now the memories threaten – "_No, Stavros, stop it!"_ –

and she can't go away. She can't go away now. _Stefan_ was her safe place, her home, and now he has broken all that, and – "_No, don't touch me, get off me, I hate you!" _– it all comes rushing back….

"Alexis?" Nikolas entered the room to see both of them collapsed on the floor. "What happened?"

Neither of them spoke. After a long moment, Nikolas broke the silence.

"Okay, that's it. I'm sending the kids away from Wyndemere," Nikolas said. He'd been a Cassadine long enough to know when his family was about to implode. "Alexis, I'll send them to Sonny's, alright?"

Had she even heard him? She seemed so far away … but after a moment, Alexis closed her eyes and nodded, her hand over her mouth. It was a mark of how bad the situation was that he would send his own son to the care of Sonny Corinthos – even if the man was Spencer's uncle – and that Alexis would allow him to send her daughters as well. But he knew Sonny's security was as tight as his own, and Valentin probably wouldn't expect them to be there.

He walked away, got the girls and Spencer, and sent them out on the launch, along with a full compliment of bodyguards. Of course, the girls peppered him with all kinds of questions, and Spencer was confused, but for once, he actually played the Prince – imperious, commanding, and intimidating – and they fell silent. He called Sonny to let him know, and hung up before the man could ask him any questions. Then he returned to where his aunt and uncle were.

Alexis was still covering her mouth with her hand, and now, Nikolas saw her gagging as she tried to force her stomach down. He helped her up off the floor and got her to the nearest bathroom, standing outside the door to afford her some privacy as he listened to the sickening sound of her retching, wanting to make sure she was alright. Had Valentin poisoned them somehow? Yet Stefan had not looked sick. Just … devastated.

After what seemed a long time, she emerged, looking ragged and drawn.

"Alexis, what happened? What did Valentin do?" His aunt took a deep breath, shaky breath.

"It's not Valentin; it's Stefan," Alexis whispered, her eyes filling with tears again. "He … he knew who Sam was all these years, and he kept her from me. Every time I wanted to seek her out, he discouraged me, but he knew her identity all along. He paid off the men she conned, and he never breathed a word to me. He made me think my daughter had died at the age of three; it was all _him_, not Mikkos. He deliberately kept us apart."

"Oh my god," Nikolas breathed. Every time he forgave Stefan, every time he opened his heart back up to the man whom he'd always thought of as his father, he found out some new, despicable thing he'd done, and the trust and love was stomped to pieces all over again.

But as horrible as all that was … why would that knowledge cause her to be sick to her stomach? Unless…

Suddenly feeling slightly queasy himself, Nikolas turned away from Alexis, intending to confront Stefan – and found him gone.

"What the hell?" He demanded angrily. "Where did he go?"

Alexis shook her head. "It doesn't matter now. I – I need to find Sam."

***

Sam didn't know how she got home.

She was sitting in her apartment with an open bottle, the contents of which were already halfway gone. The last thing she remembered before sitting there, in the dark, drunk but not drunk enough, was Valentin's leering face as he told her that –

_No, no, no_. Sam took another swig of the bottle. He was lying. He _had_ to be.

But if she was so sure of that, why was she sitting here trying to drink herself into oblivion?

"_Alexis, tell me you didn't …" _Stefan had said, a look of horror on his face.

"_The part about him being dead is true,"_ Alexis had whispered, crying.

"_Ask your mother, and watch her try to deny it!"_ Valentin had shouted.

Sam threw the bottle across the room, and it shattered, its contents spilling down the wall like blood.

She couldn't go back to Spoon Island. Not now. Not yet.

But it _had_ to be a lie. There was one memory she clung to that gave her hope, made her believe it had to be no more that Valentin's twisted, disgusting attempt to destroy her.

After her mother had gotten Jason out of her life, she had gone to live with her and Ric. At the time, it had been her plan to seduce Ric as payback for her mother taking Jason away, and … no, she didn't want to think about that part. She wanted to think about the conversation she and her mother had at the lake house, when everyone but Alexis had decided to go for a swim

"I take it you don't like to swim?" _Sam had asked._

"I can float -- sort of. Barely," _her mother had responded._

"Well, there goes my theory -- the Cassadines loving water," _Sam had said._

"Well, I may have loved water at one point, but it was no one's priority to teach me to swim growing up. My brother, however, Stavros -- he's my half-brother -- used to enjoy ducking me under the water and holding my head down –"

"Oh--" 

"Until I felt like I was going to drown. In fact, I think Helena put him up to it. Come to think of it, I do believe he was trying to kill me. So where I may have loved the water at one point, I now loathe it."

There was no way, no possible way that her mother could have spoken of him so casually, almost _jokingly_, if Stavros was really her …

No, she wasn't going to even think it. If what Valentin had said was true, how would her mother even be able to utter that name in her presence?

Unless … had Alexis' words been some kind of sick test for herself? Was her mother trying to make sure Sam never guessed the truth, by mentioning him so casually? Making sure she could speak of him in her daughter's presence without flinching, so that Sam would never suspect –

She was over thinking this. It couldn't be true.

"Come to think of it, I do believe he was trying to kill me …"

"Holding my head down …"

If he could do that, how easy, how easy it would have been for Stavros to –

Sam jumped at the sound of someone knocking on her door. She got up on unsteady feet, staggered over to the door, and when she opened it, the sight before her sobered her up instantly.

It was her mother.

"Sam, we need to talk –"

"Is it true?"

Alexis blinked. "What?"

"Valentin, Valentin said that –"

"Wait, you saw Valentin? Are you alright, did he hurt you?"

"Not any place you can see," Sam whispered. Her mother looked at her in confusion.

"H-he said, that … Nikolas and I, he said he tested our DNA…"

Alexis' eyes widened in horror, and Sam's face crumpled.

"Tell me it's not true," she whispered.

Her mother was silent.

"Please, please, mommy, tell me it's not true," Sam gasped. "Tell me I'm not … I'm _not_ a product of _rape_ and_ incest_, mommy please!"

Alexis wanted to kill Valentin with her bare hands. It seemed like all of her brothers had taken turns gutting her and tearing her heart out – even the one she had loved so deeply – and now, finally, it was Valentin's turn.

Alexis reached for her daughter, and she shrank away. "You were always mine," she gasped through her sobs. "You were always _mine_ and no one else's. It doesn't matter who – how –"

Sam let out a wild, crazy laugh. "It doesn't_ matter_?"

"Sam, please –"

"Tell me you never see him when you look at me!" She screamed. "My god, what you must have been thinking, when you saw me with Jerry, when you saw me with Ric –"

"Sam, stop it! I – I didn't love Jerry, I –"

"But you loved Ric, I know you did! He was your _husband_, and you were happy with him, and I took that away!"

"Ric is just as much to blame for –"

"What were you thinking when you saw us together, _mother_? Did it ever cross your mind that I was being my _father's daughter_? Following in his sick, twisted footsteps?"

"Sam, no, no, no –"

"Tell me! Tell me I've never for one second reminded you of _him_!"

For a long moment, Alexis couldn't breathe. And then…

"No, never," she whispered.

"I don't believe you," Sam whispered back. Suddenly, the apartment seemed too small. She was suffocating; she couldn't breathe. She had to get out of there –

"Sam, Sam, Sam, please wait Sam, please, I love you, I love you, Sam, wait!" But she pushed past her mother, running out the door, running faster than Alexis could follow.

It was over. It was all over. But before she let the darkness consume her completely, there was one more person she needed to talk to.

Her cousin. Her brother.

***

_Before the Black and White Ball, Sam approaches Nikolas on the parapet at Wyndemere._

"I uh … I just I wanted to explain what you walked in on at the hospital," _she says._

"That's not really necessary."

"Yeah, yeah, I understand that, but I do know you're really angry, and I have a right to how I feel."

"I don't wish to discuss this right now –"

"You and Emily and Lucky and Elizabeth all have been friends for a really long time, and I get that, I understand that –" 

"Sh-shut up, Lucky threw away his entire family because of you!"

"Are you kidding me? That's not how it was, I care about him –"

"You do not care about him! I'd be doing him a favor by getting rid of you! What do you think about that?"

_He pushes her back so she is hanging over the parapet, screaming:_

"Nikolas, Nikolas, no! God, please!" _He let her up, seeming dazed, shocked._

"What did I just do? Did I hurt you?"

"Hurt me? Nikolas, you just almost shoved me off the edge!"

"You need to leave."

"What – do you expect me to act like nothing just happened, because you almost just –"

"Please, please just get out of here, alright? Go!"

"Not until you tell me what is wrong with you!"

"I … I don't know … I don't remember … what just happened."

"You don't remember?"

"No. There's something wrong with me."

"Yeah. No kidding."

"I keep telling myself it's some … un-inherited medical condition that can just be diagnosed and treated, but I don't know. Maybe I am just my father's son."

_And sometime later in that conversation, as Nikolas obstinately refuses to cancel the black and white ball to deal with his illness, she scoffs at him:_

"And people thought I was stubborn."

"Be careful, it's a family trait."

"Yeah, well I – I hope that's the only thing that we have in common."

_He turns to look at her then, with an expression she cannot fathom._

"So do I."

But it _wasn't _the only thing they had in common. Not by a long shot.

Nikolas stood now, on that same parapet, an open bottle and a glass at his side, drinking and staring out into the night. The thoughts, the suspicions he'd been trying to suppress since Alexis left –

Oh hell, who was he kidding? He'd been trying to suppress those dark thoughts much longer than that, ever since Alexis told him that her supposedly dead daughter was alive, and was Sam McCall, and his blood had turned out to be a perfect match to Sam's…

This line of thought was ridiculous, he knew. It wasn't so impossible that their blood matched; they _were_ cousins, after all…

_Just_ cousins_?_

"Nikolas?" He turned at the sound of her voice. She seemed smaller, somehow, more fragile; she'd obviously been crying, and her eyes were so wide and dark and deep that he thought he might drown in them. He swallowed, the sick feeling returning.

"Did you know about …Stavros?" She whispered, trembling like a leaf. "Did everyone know but me?" _Oh no. Oh no._

"Know what?"

"That…" Sam closed her eyes. "That he was my father." Nikolas drew in a sharp breath. "That he raped Alexis and she got pregnant with me." Sam opened her eyes and looked at him. "Did you know?"

It took Nikolas a minute to find his voice. "I-I-I had … my suspicions, but …"

"Suspicions?"

"Sam, you don't understand – I knew he was cruel, I knew he was violent, my father, he was –"

"_Our_ father," Sam corrected him, watching as the tears trailed down his cheeks. She felt hollowed out; she felt she had no tears left to cry … but her _brother _did.

"Sam, you have to understand, he thought Alexis was just a distant cousin, he –"

"And that made it okay for him to _rape_ her?"

"No, no, my god, of course not! He had no right to do that to your mother, any more than he had to do it to mine!" He was shouting now, his voice shaking. "My god, Sam, you think – you think I don't know how you feel? How do you think _I_ got here? Laura was kidnapped, told her husband was dead, and forced into a false marriage – do you think she got into his bed willingly?"

"Stavros and Laura were not _related_! Stavros and Alexis were _brother_ and _sister_! Nikolas, can't you see? Not only am I a product of rape, I'm _unnatural_!"

"No, no, no – Sam wait, what are you doing? NO!"

Sam was thrusting her body over the edge, her vision blurring as she remembered how to cry. Nikolas grabbed her around the waist and pulled her back, even as she struggled against him.

"Let me go! You should have done it, that night, you should have tossed me over the edge! I'm a _monster_!"

"No, No Sam, you're not like him – _we're_ not like him – please!"

"Nikolas is right. Please, little one, don't … _go_."

With Sam in his arms, Nikolas turned, to see his hated, beloved Uncle Stefan standing before them.


	21. Chapter 20

Little Sister 

Chapter Twenty: Redemption 

Author's Note: Happy Holidays, everyone! This chapter's not exactly full of yuletide cheer, but I hope you like it. I struggled with it quite a bit, and despite how it may seem, we're not quite at the end of the story yet. Enjoy!*

"Alexis …"

_She turns away from Mikkos, curling up in a fetal position on the bed. Soon, they will leave this apartment and return to Greece. After forcing her to give up her baby for adoption, he has inexplicably and repeatedly attempted to engage her in conversation, in a way he has never done before. With her mother and father both dead, it should have been perfectly natural for him to step into the role of parent, but he has never even attempted to do that, until now. How ironic that he is finally trying to be some sort of parent to her, while at the same time robbing her of the opportunity to be a parent herself. Robbing her of her baby girl … her sweet, innocent little baby girl…_

"Leave me alone."

"Alexis, it is for the best. You did the right thing." _She sits up and turns to face him, eyes blazing with anger._

"_I_ did the right thing? What the hell are you talking about? You didn't even give me a choice! I _wanted_ to keep her!"

"I know you must feel …"

"How would you know how I feel? Did you have a daughter you were forced to disown?" _Mikkos flinches at her words and her tone. She doesn't understand why her reaction seems to pain him so, but she is glad of it. She wishes she could hurt him as much as he is hurting her now. But then his face hardens._

"It's really terribly mundane and very common, Alexis. You made an imprudent choice, and now you are suffering the consequences –"

"Choice? What makes you think any part of it was my _choice_?" _Mikkos stares at her._

"What do you mean?" _Alexis stares back at him, opens her mouth to speak, and then closes it, defeated. _

"Nothing, I meant nothing. Now, just go away," _she whispers._

"Alexis, I spoke too harshly. I … apologize. I know this is hard on you. If there is anything I can do to ease your pain…"

"Except for giving me my daughter back, right?" _She snaps._ "Please stop pretending that you care. You're no different than Helena; I'm just an inconvenience to you. You don't give a damn about me!"

"God damn it, Alexis, I am your FATHER!" _Surprised and confused by this vehement declaration, she leans forward, staring at him. Mikkos takes a deep breath._

"What I mean is, for all intents and purposes, I am your father, your parent, and I love –"

"No you're not and no you don't!" _Alexis snaps, her eyes filling with tears._

"Please, Alexis …"

"Where's Stefan? I want Stefan! You really want to make me feel better? If you won't give me my daughter, then bring Stefan here. He's been more of a father to me than you ever have!" _With nothing further to say to him, she turns away, curling back up into a ball, refusing to acknowledge that he is still standing there, silent. After a moment, she hears his footsteps retreating from the room. She fingers the lock of her daughter's hair she has hidden beneath her pillow, and cries herself to sleep._

_Stefan arrives the next day._

"Little one?" _Alexis eyes fly open at the sound of his voice, and she bounds from the bed and into his waiting arms._

"Oh Stefan! You're here, you're here," _she breathes, burying her face in his shoulder. They have not seen each other since he visited her at the clinic, and she has missed him so._

"My daughter …"

"I know, I know. I'm so sorry it has to be this way."

_Stefan holds her until Mikkos' voice intrudes on their reunion._

"Stefan, I need to speak with you."

_Stefan reluctantly releases his little cousin. _ "Yes, father," _he says dutifully, working hard to cover his irritation. He kisses Alexis' cheek. _"I'll just be a moment."

_He follows his father across the apartment. He stops when Mikkos stops, waiting for the man to speak._

"Do you know who the baby's father is?" _Thought it shouldn't, the question takes him aback._

_Stefan hastens to make his expression blank and impassive. _"No, I do not." _Mikkos eyes him appraisingly._

"I think that you are lying, my son."

"Think whatever you want, father. Punish me if you like, for my supposed falsehood, but I have nothing else to say to you on the matter. Now, if you are not going to ask me anything else, I will return to Alexis. That is why you summoned me here, is it not? To help her through this?"

_He sees pain in his father's face. It is surprising, because the man is usually so unreadable to him, but the expression is unmistakable. Years later, he will look back with understanding; for all his flaws, his father truly loved Alexis, and it hurt him that Stefan could comfort her in a way he could not._

_He returns to see her holding something in her hand. _"What is that?" _She sniffs._

"A lock of my daughter's hair," _Alexis says softly._ "One of the nurses was kind enough to give it to me. Oh god, I … I just hope she'll be alright."

_Stefan sits back down beside her and puts him arm around her. _"Of course she'll be all right. She's a fighter, and she's strong."

"How do you know that?" _Stefan tries to smile._

"Don't you remember when I was at the clinic? She kicked, Alexis. She kicked very hard."

***

"This is all my fault," Stefan said.

"You're damn right it is!" Nikolas shouted, still clutching a sobbing Sam in his arms. "You had no right to keep her from us!"

"No," Sam said, her sobs subsiding. "I understand, I get it now. I know what you see when you look at me, uncle. I am nothing more to you than the physical manifestation of your guilt."

"No Samantha! Please try to understand, I was only trying to … to protect you, and your mother –"

"If you had protected her, I wouldn't BE HERE!" Sam screamed. "But you _failed_, and I am a constant reminder of that! Not to mention a reminder of Stavros. I know you hated him just as much as Alexis did, so why wouldn't you hate me?"

"By that logic, I should hate Nikolas as well. But I don't; I love –"

"Oh spare me! Nikolas already told me you secretly believed he was _your_ son for most of his life –"

"Before any tests were falsified, before he was even born," Stefan countered, talking over Sam, "I loved him! Because he was Laura's son. And …. I love _you_, because you are Alexis' daughter. I just … I was afraid. I was afraid of my guilt and my shame, my own inadequacies. I was afraid Helena would find out about your paternity, and I could not fathom her reaction. I was afraid of … this. I was afraid we would not be able to keep the truth from you, and … I was afraid Stavros would hurt you from the grave."

Sam collapsed against Nikolas, falling to the ground. "Sam …" he gasped, his voice shaking.

"Alexis hates me."

"That's not true," Stefan said.

"Of course it is!" Sam wailed, as Nikolas cradled her. "How could she not? You told me you thought she would never recover from the loss of me, but what you really meant was that she would never recover from what my_ father_ did to her!"

"That's not the way it was!" Stefan shouted, his voice as tremulous as her own. "You don't understand! She told me … she told you me you were her reward for enduring everything that … happened, she … she was so angry at our father for taking you away …"

"Oh, god. Did Mikkos know too?"

"No, I was the only other one that knew. I … I swear to you, I planned on taking it to my _grave_, rather than cause you this pain, I … you have to believe she loves you, Samantha. She always has. There were so many times she wanted to seek you out. It was _I_ who always dissuaded her, it was _I_ who kept the two of you apart, because …"

"…because you knew this would destroy me," Sam whispered.

"It was my sin and my mistake to underestimate you, Samantha. I know now what I recognized back then; that you are _stronger_ than this!"

"How do you know?" Sam gasped.

"I felt you kick, Samantha. You are your mother's daughter. I always told Alexis she was stronger than she knew, and the same is true for you. You kicked so hard … the same way Nikolas did." Sam cried softly as Nikolas' grip tightened on her. "Laura never blamed Nikolas for the way he came into the world, and Alexis never blamed _you_. You were not hated or reviled by her; you were beloved, always."

"Well, isn't that just a pretty little lie."

All three of them turned, to see the man who had set on this madness in motion. His smile was more of a leer, and he had Alexis in his grasp, holding a knife to her throat.

"Alexis!" Stefan stepped forward, and Valentin drew the knife closer, pressing the tip into her neck just hard enough to make her bleed.

"Stay back, Stefan, or I'll slash her throat. Straight across the vocal cords, just like Helena did with her mother. Would you appreciate the symmetry of that, dear Natasha?" He shook her, laughing as she whimpered in pain. "Hmm? I suppose not. Now, little sister, tell your incestuous spawn the truth! Tell her you can't stand the sight of her, tell her you hate like you hated her father!"

Alexis struggled in grasp. "No! I _love_ her – I love you, Sam! I carried you in my body for nine months, and when you were born, I wanted to hold you forever and never let go!" Valentin laughed, gripping her tight enough to bruise.

"You're a liar."

"No I'm not, Valentin! Go to hell!"

"If I do, I'm taking you with me!" Nikolas' eyes darted to Stefan, who nodded imperceptibly.

"Let her go!" Nikolas shouted. "It's me you want, isn't it? I'm the Prince, I'm the one whose very existence has kept you from grabbing all the money and the power, aren't I?"

Valentins' manic gaze shifted to Nikolas, and his grip on Alexis slackened just the tiniest bit –

Stefan attacked him as Alexis twisted out of his clutches. Valentin let out a wordless scream of rage, trying to push past his brother to plunge the dagger in Nikolas' throat –

Nikolas ducked out of the way, pulling Sam with him. Valentin was forcing Stefan over the parapet, and Stefan was clutching at his wrist, trying to prevent himself from being stabbed –

They tumbled over the railing together.

"NO!" Nikolas screamed. "Not again, uncle, uncle!" He rushed forward, but it was too late. He stood there, shaking.

"Nikolas …" Sam called out.

He turned to see Alexis and Sam embracing. "I love you, I love you, I love you. None of the rest matters, Sam, I love you…."

Sam held her mother tight, burying her face in her shoulder. "I know, I know. I love you too, mommy…."

Nikolas walked over and embraced them both. It was several moments before they came to their senses and pulled apart.

"We … we have to go see … we have to find …" he did not say, _their bodies_, but both Sam and Alexis understood his meaning, and nodded grimly.

They made their way down to the bluffs, and found Valentine at the edge of one of them, lying on his back, his mad eyes wide, the knife plunged into his chest. They all stared at him as his face contorted in pain, and he gasped his last words:

"I just … didn't want … to be … ignored."

Nikolas crouched down so that his face was inches from Valentin's. "I don't hate you; I don't love you," he whispered. "For all that you have done, I will simply … forget you. I will _ignore_ you forever." Valentin's eyes locked with the Prince's, and Nikolas saw the expression of horror that flashed across his face, before his features slackened, as his last breath left him and he died.

"He's gone," Nikolas confirmed, and they all breathed a sigh of relief. He looked around.

"Where …"

But though they all searched the bluff, they could find no trace of Stefan's body.

"He … his body … it must have fallen into the water … right?" Sam asked, as they all exchanged uncertain glances.

"I suppose," Alexis said. Nikolas and Sam looked down at Valentin's body.

"What are we going to do with him?" Sam asked.

Nikolas locked eyes with her. "A dead body will bring the police, and along with them, questions I don't want to answer," he said. "Let him meet the same end as his brother."

"Do you mean…"

He took her hand. "Let's kick hard, Samantha."

They were strong; it barely took any effort at all. The body rolled over the edge and into the water. Nikolas put his arm around his little sister.

"You are safe, little one. And you are loved. It's all over now."


	22. Chapter 21

Little Sister

Chapter Twenty-One: Sapphires

*Author's Note: This chapter is set about a month after the last one. In that time, Jason and Sonny have learned about Claudia's complicity in Michael's shooting. Claudia and Johnny have fled Port Charles, and Jason has been hunting them down. I think that's all you need to know*

_One month later._

"Are you sure about this?" Nikolas asked her. Sam took a deep breath.

"Yes." But still, he hesitated.

"You don't have to do this, you know…"

"Nikolas…" Sam said as he should his head.

"You know, I don't even know why I kept this photo album, I …"

"Nikolas." Sam put a hand on his arm. "Please, I need to see." He swallowed.

"Okay."

Nikolas opened the photo album to the picture of himself as an infant.

Stavros was holding him.

Sam drew in a sharp breath. She looked at the picture for what seemed a long time to him, studying it intently. Her expression was impossible to read. Finally, she spoke.

"He doesn't look like a…" she couldn't finish, but she didn't really have to.

"Yeah, I know."

"Do …" God, this was hard. "Do you think I look like him?"

"Do you think I do?" The silence stretched out for a long moment, until Nikolas broke it. "Let's just say we look like each other, and leave it at that."

Sam almost smiled. Trust Nikolas to put things in the most diplomatic way possible. But he might not be able to do that when it came to her next question.

"Do … do you think he loved you? Do you think he was even _capable_ of love?"

"God Sam, I don't know." This was so surreal. Talking with her, about his … about _their _father, so calmly, like their situation was anything approaching normal. He'd been both dreading and anticipating this discussion with her.

"When he came back from the …" Nikolas almost laughed at how ridiculous it sounded. "Came back from the dead, I … he seemed to want … some sort of connection, I don't know, and then, at the end, when he told me to leave that place … I think he knew he was going to die. All he said was 'Go. Be well.' Now, I don't know about love, but that was the one moment when I found myself believing that he might … have some humanity in him." Sam drew in a sharp breath.

"Well, if he did, he certainly didn't show any of it to my mother," Sam spat out. Nikolas gripped her hand tight.

"Alexis loves you. You know this."

"I know," Sam whispered, her head down, crying softly. "It's just … god … I keep thinking these awful things, like …"

"What?" He asked. She raised a tear-streaked face to him.

"Like maybe it's a good thing my baby died." Nikolas gaped at her. "What – what good could come of my bloodline –"

"Just as much good as comes from son!" Nikolas said, his eyes intent on hers. "Your child was a blessing Sam, regardless of circumstances, and you shouldn't be ashamed to mourn her just because of what you've learned. She was a blessing, just like you are to Alexis … and to me."

It was Sam's turn to gape. "To you?"

"Do you know why I came to Port Charles, Sam? Do you know why Stefan brought me here?"

"Because of Laura –"

"No. Because of Lulu. She was dying and she needed bone marrow, and no one else was a match … except me." He held Sam's face in his hands, feeling as tender and protective towards her as he had towards little Lulu all those years ago. "My _little sister_ needed me, Sam. And I helped her, and I loved her." Sam took his meaning, but shook her head bitterly.

"I'm not just your sister, I'm your cousin. How sick is that –"

"You are my _family_, and I love you. Just like Alexis said, none of the rest matters."

Nikolas hugged Sam tightly, cradling her like a child. She kept waiting to be rejected, to be resented, to be shunned, but it never happened. She felt loved and protected in his embrace.

This must be how her mother felt with Stefan.

"Daddy? Cousin Sam? What's wrong? Why you crying?" Spencer walked into the room, his eyes wide, disliking the sight of his two favorite grown-ups so upset. Nikolas released Sam, and they both attempted to compose themselves and smile reassuringly at him.

"It's okay, Spence –"

"You sad? You miss Uncle Stefan?" After his apparent death, Nikolas had told his son who the "nice man" was that had rescued them and lived at the house for a while, since there was no need to keep the secret anymore.

Nikolas and Sam exchanged glances. "Yes," Nikolas answered truthfully, "We miss him." Spencer looked thoughtful.

"Me too." And then, with a child's simple ability to focus on the positive, he smiled, holding out his arms to Sam. "Swing?"

Nikolas and Sam exchanged glances, and their smiles were more genuine this time. Sam picked Spencer up and swung him around. He squealed with glee and laughed, and they laughed too, to see his delight.

It occurred to Nikolas, as it had before, that Sam was helping to fill a void in Spencer's life that Courtney, and then his beloved Emily, had left when they died. She would have been a good mother to her baby girl, and she was a good mother figure to Spencer. The pain, the blood, the power-mad darkness of the Cassadine legacy – it all melted away in this little act of love, watching his son take joy in such a simple thing. Alexis had been right. The rest didn't matter.

***

"Jason!"

Sam had returned to her apartment after helping Nikolas put Spencer to bed, only to find him waiting at her door. She automatically ran to embrace him, then stopped short, both of them hesitant, unsure.

"We … we have a lot to talk about, don't we?" Sam asked, and Jason nodded silently. She unlocked her door and invited Jason into her place.

They sat down on the couch. He started to speak, but she cut him off.

"Did you find Claudia?"

Jason sighed. Sam was trying to keep the subject off her family, and they both knew it. Even so, he obliged her.

"I found her and Johnny. They're staying in Milan."

"Well, that's good! So … what did you do?" Jason's face was grim.

"Nothing."

Sam blinked. "Nothing? Wait, what – what do you mean?"

"Sonny wants me to let Claudia live." Sam was incredulous. The Sonny Corinthos she knew was many things, but merciful wasn't one of them.

"_Why?_"

"Michael … Michael and Kristina both… they both pleaded with him, to spare Claudia's life. As angry as Michael was, he didn't want her blood on his hands, and Kristina … well, you know, she still feels guilty about the car accident, so …Sonny couldn't refuse them. Claudia lives."

"How do you feel about that?"

"Well, I'm not exactly happy about it. But at the same time, I'd hate to have killed Claudia and had Michael feel like he was responsible."

"Jason, I know you. Are you really going to be able to let this go?" His stoic features took on an expression of resignation.

"I will. I have to." Sam let out a breath.

"Well, okay … so ..."

"So," Jason said.

For a moment they were both silent. Finally, Jason started in.

"I really wish you had told me about Stefan, Sam. I wish I didn't have to hear it from Sonny. I thought we agreed we wouldn't have any more secrets between us."

"Jason, my mother asked me not to tell anyone –"

"I know, I know Sam, it's just – god! Emily was my _sister_. And after what he tried to do to her – "

"Jason, the circumstances – there was more to the story –"

"I don't care!" Jason shouted.

"Well I do!" Sam shouted back. "Please Jason, try to understand, he was protecting –"

"Why are you defending him?"

"Because he saved my life! Now, I know that's usually your job, but don't feel slighted. I just need you to understand. I know … I know how deeply he was flawed, how many awful things he did. Believe me, do I know. But he loved my mother and sisters, and he loved Nikolas, and … I think he even loved me. He died _saving_ us, and I am allowed to mourn his passing whether you like it or not!"

Jason stared at her, and then, in an uncharacteristic show of emotion put his head in his hands. Sam wrapped her arms around him.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"I'm sorry too," he said. "It's just …you and your family, and then this thing with Claudia … everything's hitting at once and I ..."

"… don't quite know how to process it all," Sam finished for him. "Believe me, I know how you feel. Jason, I … I found out … who my father is." He released Sam to stare at her.

"Alexis finally told you?" Sam shook her head, her eyes filling with tears.

"No. Valentin did." Jason looked confused.

"Jason, it's not … good…"

"Sam …"

"My conception, it wasn't … consensual." Jason's eyes widened.

"Oh Sam …"

"It gets worse," she said.

"How could it possibly get worse?" Sam looked at him then, studying the face of the man she loved. The man she'd loved so desperately, beyond all reason, beyond all thought, beyond even her own identity.

"I don't think I can tell you. I don't think I want to tell you."

"Sam, we said no more secrets…"

"I'm a Cassadine, Jason. We always have secrets, even from those we love."

"Come on Sam, you're not really a Cassadine."

"Yes I am," Sam said, softly but intently. "More than you know." She took a deep breath.

"Jason, I think … I think you and I need some time. Time apart." Jason looked distressed.

"Sam, look, if I came down too hard about the secrets thing, I can –"

Sam put a finger to his lips. "Jason, this isn't about you. You're great; you're wonderful. And I love you. I loved you before, so much so that I lost myself in you, and I'm afraid to do it again. No, it's not your fault," she added, as he started to protest. "It's not you; it's me. I need to be with … myself for a while, Jason. Figuring out exactly who I was, who I am, and who I will choose to be. I don't want to have a life without you, but I need to know that – that I _can_, before I let you back into it. God, does that make any sense at all?"

"I'm … I'm not sure I completely understand, Sam. But if you need time … I'll give it to you. Just as long as you come back to me."

Before ushering him out of her place, Sam leaned in and kissed Jason lightly. "I don't know if I could stay away."

***

_Los Angeles, California_

"Daddy!"

Molly jumped into her father's waiting arms. She knew it was a childish thing to do – she was 11 now, after all, practically an adolescent – but she couldn't contain her joy at seeing her father. It had been too long.

"Hi sweetheart! Oh, I missed you."

"I missed you too. Oh, you won't believe everything that's happened, it's like something out a –"

" – novel, I know," Ric finished, grinning at his daughter as he set her down on the ground. He saw so much of Alexis in her … and when it came to his ex-wife, Molly was probably the one thing he'd done right. "Your mother filled me in on most of what happened. Though I do wish," he sighed, "given the potential danger to you, she hadn't told me _after_ the fact…" Ric bit back the rest of his words, reminded himself that even if he was displeased with Alexis, there was no need to put their daughter in the middle.

"It's okay, dad," Molly said solemnly. "Uncle vanquished the enemy. He saved us all."

Ric had to work hard to keep his expression neutral. Did his brother always have to supplant his place, even with his own daughter? "I'm sure Sonny was –"

"I wasn't talking about Uncle Sonny. I was talking about Uncle Stefan."

Ric stared at her. "Uncle – Uncle_ Stefan_? Wait, _what_?" He said the last part so loudly that people turned in the crowded airport to stare at him. Alexis hastily made her way over from where she had been standing at a distance, and his eyes locked with hers.

With their new lake house under construction, it had seemed like the perfect time for Molly to visit Ric, and Alexis hadn't wanted to send her alone – but she knew coming here also meant that Ric would have a lot of questions.

"'Uncle Stefan,' Alexis?" She was silent. "Oh my god… I cannot wait to hear you try and explain this." Alexis shook her head, giving him a smile that was almost a smirk.

"Well, you'll have to wait, Ric, because we're not discussing it here, in such a public place." Her tone was wry, with an edge of steel. For a moment he could have sworn he saw something deadly in those beautiful eyes of hers. And then she smiled, tightly but sincerely. He smiled hesitantly back, holding out his arm.

"Shall we?"

A little while later, they sat in Ric's new home – a modest but tastefully decorated condominium, with a room for Molly, who would be staying with him over the long weekend. Alexis had told Ric about Valentin, but, as she had initially done with Sonny, she left Stefan out of it. Now, she revealed the whole truth.

Well, not the whole truth, but as much as anyone else outside the family knew. At the end, Ric's reaction surprised her. He was shaking his head, laughing softly.

"What?"

"It's just so … oh, I don't really know what to call it. Do you know I used to think I was your substitute for Sonny? That I was competing with him for first place in your heart?"

"Oh Ric –"

"All these years, I thought he was the most important man in your life, the one that got away, and maybe he was … in a romantic sense."

"Ric –"

"But Stefan … my god Alexis, you helped him fake his death? I don't think I ever understood before how _bound_ you were to him."

"Well, you're right about Stefan. You never understood that. No one really did. But you're not right about Sonny."

"Come on, Alexis –"

"No, _you_ come on, Ric!"

"Tell me you don't want him back."

"I _do_ want him back. Just not in the way you think. I want him back as my friend and co-parent, which is why, despite all my reservations, I'm allowing Kristina to stay with him while Molly and I are here … with you."

Ric stayed silent, searching his eyes with hers.

"I loved you, Ric. I loved you so much. What you and I had was so much more … _real_ than anything I ever had with Sonny. And yet, all that time, you though you were second-best, my consolation prize for a man who's bed I shared for a grand total of one night? That is just so … sad." Ric dropped his gaze, having the grace to look ashamed. After a moment, he looked back up at her.

"When I was with Elizabeth," he said, "I was so in love with her, but … there was always something … it wasn't right. I put her up on a pedestal, I refused to acknowledge that she had flaws, I … sometimes now, I wonder if I wasn't just in love with the _idea_ of her, this perfect image I had in my head. But I never did that with you."

"You certainly never put _me_ on a pedestal," Alexis said wryly, thinking of all the eloquently cruel insults he hurled at her during the implosion of their marriage. He had been like Stefan to her in that way; his words had been able to cut her like a knife.

"No, no I didn't. I had you firmly planted by my side, on solid ground. No higher, no lower. Flawed and frustrating and neurotic and strong and amazing and beautiful. I know you don't believe it, Alexis, but I did love you. And part of me will always… I …I still …"

He cupped her face in his hand, and Alexis sighed, closing her eyes. They stayed like that, for a moment, and then, as he knew she would, Alexis pulled away, smiling sadly at him.

"We can't go back, can we?" He asked. She shook her head. Besides her daughters, and perhaps Nikolas, Stefan was the only one who could make her forgive the unforgivable.

Ric came really close, though.

"I'm sorry you had to lose him again, Alexis. Stefan, I mean. Are you sure he's dead?" Alexis shrugged.

"When it comes to my family, who knows?"

***

There was a knock on the door of Sam's apartment, and she jumped up to answer, simultaneously hopeful and apprehensive that it was Jason, coming back to tell her that he didn't want time apart, that he loved her and needed her and wouldn't take no for an answer …

"Ms. McCall?"

"Oh," she said, slightly deflated, opening the door to a man she didn't recognize. He seemed to be some sort of delivery person; he held a package and a letter in one hand, a clipboard with a pen in the other, which he held out to her. "Could you sign for these, please?"

"Sure," she said automatically, without thinking. She signed the form, and he handed her the letter and package. She turned from him briefly, looking at the items. "Who's this from –"

But when she turned back, the delivery man was gone.

Sam opened the package first, and gasped.

Inside the package were three jewelry boxes, each of which contained breathtakingly exquisite diamond-and-sapphire bracelets. She tore open the letter, looking for some sort of explanation, and was not disappointed.

_Dear Samantha:_

_When the Persians invaded Jerusalem in the seventh century, they burnt to the ground the church that was erected by the emperor Constantine. It was called the Church of the Holy Sepulcher. Everything was destroyed except the tabernacle, which some of the religious faithful rescued. They took it and adorned it with twelve sapphires, in the shape of a cross. Each stone was said to have the power to protect from harm whoever possessed them._

_My father found the tabernacle, and from some of those large stones, he fashioned both a ring and a two-piece necklace – gifts of devotion and protection to Kristin Bergman, your grandmother, who may very well have been the only woman he ever truly loved. It has taken me a while, but I have found the remaining stones, and from them, fashioned these small baubles for you and your sisters. My father was able to protect Kristen from Helena's wrath for a surprisingly long time; most unfortunately, as you know, it was not long enough. I can only hope these small tokens will serve you and your sisters better and much, much longer._

_You may wonder how I survived, but I will not bore you with the tedious explanations. Suffice it to say, with Valentin most thankfully expired, I have raided his accounts, giving me enough money to live more comfortably than I had in my previous exile from my family._

_Yes, I do believe I must remain apart from all of you. Perhaps some arrangement can be made for secret visits, some time in the future, if we are very careful – but Helena must not know I am alive, and she must never know the entire truth about you. Be wary of her, always, and know I will do my best to shield her from you, if only from a distance._

_For what I have done, for what I taken from you – years you could have spent with your mother – I do not presume to ask your forgiveness. Know only that my regret is sincere, that my reasons reached far beyond the obvious. I have spent so much of my life thinking I know what is best for Alexis, what she can or cannot handle; it has always been hard for me to let go, to give up control. I believe I am finally able to do it now._

_You may wonder about your father, dear one. You may wonder if there was anything good in him, anything worthwhile. The answer may surprise you: the answer is yes. There were two good things about him. One is Nikolas. The other one, undoubtedly, is you. Please, if you believe nothing else I tell you, believe that. Never stop believing it, and never stop fighting, for who you are and what you deserve – which is all the happiness I can wish you._

_I love you. I hope you know that. And please, give my love to your sisters as well. We are all family, and we are bound together, always._

_Kick hard, Samantha._

_With utmost sincerity and affection,_

_Stefan_


	23. Chapter 22

_*Author's Note: Does anyone still care about this story? I know it's been __**way**__ too long since I updated, and I really have no excuses that are worth listing. A few more chapters should finish this off, so if anyone still cares, inspiration struck tonight, and I finally managed to complete another installment. I apologize for taking __**so**__ long to update. If you're still reading, please review. Hope you enjoy!*_

Little Sister

Chapter Twenty-Two: Light in the Darkness

"Natasha?"

"Hello, Luke."

Alexis sauntered into the haunted start with forced levity, giving Luke a tight smile.

"Slow night?" She asked, taking in the silence and emptiness of the place.

"That's a bit of an understatement. It's been so slow I let the Dodger knock off early." For a moment, the silence stretched out between them, tense and awkward, until Luke finally broke it.

"You still pissed at me for telling Sonny the truth about Stefan?"

"Yes."

"Would it help to know I was half in the bag at the time?"

"No." Alexis took a breath. "And what about you? Are you still angry at me for my deceptions?"

"Yes."

"Would it help to know that Stefan's presumably dead?"

"No. He was 'presumably dead' the first time, Natasha. He should've stayed that way."

"Don't you believe in second chances, Luke?"

"Not for a Cassadine."

"_I_ am a Cassadine."

"You're the exception that proves the rule, then. Stefan didn't deserve a first chance, must less a second one." Alexis' gaze locked with Luke's, her eyes filling with a cold resentment.

"Of course I'm sure you're correct, Luke. Being that you've always been such a bastion of righteousness, you're in the perfect position to judge, aren't you? After all, it's not like _you've_ ever hurt someone you loved, it's not like _you've_ ever committed a horrible, desperate, violent act, and been forgiven – "

"Okay, okay! God…" Luke stared at her. Never in all time they had known each other, had she brought up what he'd done to Laura all those years ago. Well, maybe in a legal capacity, but not like this. Why was she doing this now?

Alexis sighed. "I'm …" she couldn't quite bring herself to say the word "sorry," but the suggestion on apology stretched out in the air between them, and Luke felt slightly mollified.

"You sure he's dead this time?"

"I don't know."

"And if you hear from him …"

"I sure as hell won't be telling you."

"Fair enough." Luke paused. "You know, I never understood why you always defended him. He pulled your strings, made you dance to his tune…"

"… And he also … loved me, encouraged me, supported me, financed my education, and protected me … from Helena, from … Stavros …" Alexis took a deep, shaky breath, and shrugged, a vain attempt at nonchalance, but Luke didn't buy it. There was something about the way she said his name … "I suppose you could say it was a double-edged sword, being Stefan's sister. You're not wrong about the bad, Luke, but that doesn't mean there wasn't any good."

"Don't forget the ugly."

"I haven't forgotten you, Luke."

"Ouch!" They both chuckled. "So …"

"So …"

"Can I pour you a drink?"

"What ever she's having, it's on me," Sonny said, as Luke and Alexis both turned at the sound of his voice. Sonny smiled slightly at Alexis.

"Welcome back."

"Thanks."

"How's …" he couldn't quite bring himself to ask after Ric. "…Molly?"

Alexis looked a little too knowing, as if she had guessed unarticulated part of his question; he couldn't decide if that was annoying, endearing, or both. "She's fine. Thank you for keeping Kristina."

"Thank you for letting me have her in my home." Alexis frowned.

"You're welcome. Just don't expect me to make a habit of it. My girls and I are staying at Wyndemere until the new house is finished."

"You know, I could help with costs, speed up construction …"

"Thanks but no thanks. I have no intention of living in the house that the mob built."

Luke chuckled and poured all three of them drinks. Sonny sat down beside Alexis, and they clinked their glasses together.

"To survival," Luke said. They all drank, and sat for several moments in companionable silence, until Sonny started in again.

"You know Alexis, Kristina _could _stay with me until the house is finished." Alexis sighed. Couldn't she ever stay on nice, neutral, _friendly_ co-parenting territory with Sonny for more than a few minutes?

"Sonny – "

"Alexis, a man has a right to spend time with his child! For god's sake, you didn't even _tell_ Sam's father –"

"Stop it!" Sonny turned to Luke, surprised at the vehemence of his declaration. He looked back to Alexis, who had her head in her hands, and was utterly confused.

"What – what did I – I didn't mean to upset –"

"Drop it, Sonny. Just drop it," Luke said. Normally, Sonny would tell Luke to mind his own business, but something told him not to push this. Not now.

"I'm … I'm gonna go." Luke nodded.

"You do that."

"Alexis?"

"Goodnight Sonny," Alexis said hoarsely, her head still in her hands. Sonny exchanged a worried glance with Luke, who nodded as if to say, "I got this." Alexis heard the sound of his retreating footsteps but didn't bother to look up. Eventually, she composed herself and started to make a silent retreat from the haunted star, but Luke came out from behind the counter to stop her.

"Natasha… Alexis …" He put his hand under her chin, titling her face up. "I … I'm sorry that …" He didn't want to say it aloud, and the cruel irony was not lost on him. "Some men _are_ truly sorry, you know, for the horrible things we've done… no woman deserves …" She started to cry. "Hey, it's okay, it's okay…"

They kissed softly, tenderly. They kissed past friendship, past flirtation, past desire, and when she pulled away, as he knew she would, Luke was surprised at how reluctant he was to let her go.

"It's late, Luke. Tracy is probably waiting for you." Luke smiled, shaking his head.

"Tracy's like time, Natasha. Or the tide. Or … something. The point is, she waits for no man." Alexis managed a smile of her own.

"Even so. Good night, Luke. And … thank you."

"You're welcome, Natasha."

***

"Hi, mom."

"Hello Sam."

Mother and daughter faced each other for the first time in weeks in the main foyer of Wyndemere. With Molly asleep, and Kristina spending her last night at Sonny's, there was no buffer between them.

"I'm … I'm glad you're back," Sam said softly. Alexis pulled her oldest daughter into a hug.

"I've missed you, Sam. We haven't really talked since …" _since you find out the awful truth, the truth I would've done anything to keep from you, the truth I still wish you didn't have to know. _"…Stefan died."

"Um, yeah, about that … I … well, here." Sam pushed Stefan's letter into her mother's hands. Alexis looked at her questioningly, but she only nodded towards the piece of paper, and her mother unfolded it, reading quickly. She saw many emotions flash across her mother' face – joy, relief – and several others she couldn't identify. When she finished reading she looked back up at Sam.

"I … I didn't know he knew that … about the sapphires. That was something Luke told me a very long time ago. I can't believe he … do you have the bracelets?"

Sam smiled hesitantly at her mother and showed them to her. They looked at each other wordlessly, tears in both their eyes. Alexis touched her daughter's arm lightly.

"Sam, I want to show you something."

Sam followed her mother to her room and watched as she pulled out a strong box from beneath the bed. When she opened it, Sam saw several pieces of jewelry. She recognized two things immediately, from the descriptions in Stefan's letter: the two-piece sapphire necklace, and the sapphire ring. Alexis picked up the necklace.

"I had one strand, and my sister had the other."

Her mother's sister. Her Aunt Kristina, her own sister's namesake.

"Sometimes you remind me of her, you know," Alexis said softly. Sam looked at her hopefully. "Really?"

"Not in looks, of course. Kristina was the image of our mother, with her pale skin and her red hair. It's … sometimes your smile … and your manner is like hers, so … irreverent." Alexis smiled fondly, so Sam took it that "irreverent" was a good thing.

Sam knelt down beside her mother, who was still lovingly fingering the necklace. She took a deep breath.

"But I … I never remind you of…" She couldn't finish. Alexis cradled her daughter's face in her hands and looked her straight in the eyes.

"You remind me of my mother the most," she said softly. "From the moment I knew you were my daughter, and I saw you lying in that hospital bed, I thought – I feared – that you were Kristin Bergman reborn. Don't misunderstand. My mother was a very loving person, a talented singer, and the few memories I have of her, I treasure. But she loved my father recklessly, beyond all reason. In the end, she died because she loved him." Sam swallowed.

"But it was Helena –"

"Helena never would have been interested in her if she had not been Mikkos' mistress, if she had not borne his children. You were lying in that hospital bed because you were a target of Jason's enemy. When I looked at you then, that was all I could see: you dying for the love of dangerous man, just like my mother. I suppose it would be terribly romantic if it were one of Molly's novels, to have the heroin die for love, but I think you and I both know that the reality is much harsher. I know you think that I did what I did out of a desire to control you; maybe that was part of it. But Sam, you have to understand, that my primary motivation was simply to keep you alive, because I love you. Always."

Sam looked at her mother, the tears softly falling. "Oh god," she said softly. "I wish … I wish you had told me that a long time ago."

"Me too."

Sam squeezed her eyes shut, nerving herself. She had to know. She took a breath and blurted out the words: "Are you sure I've never reminded you of Stavros?" She heard her mother draw in a sharp breath, and chanced to open her eyes again. Alexis stroked her face lovingly.

"Why should you?" She asked simply. "Nikolas never has."

"Not even when I – with Ric –"

"No."

"But it was so awful, how can you say it didn't remind of –"

This time it was Alexis' turn to close her eyes. "Because if you were like him, you would've laughed in my face and told me what you did the second I walked in the door. You would've gloated and not felt anything even approaching remorse. Stavros had no patience and no conscience, alright? Oh god, oh god – I'm sorry…" Alexis started to cry, and Sam embraced her.

"No … no … it's okay …"

"He never … if there was ever any goodness in him, Helena crushed it. She encouraged him to live down to his lowest impulses. She poisoned him with her 'love' as much as she poisoned Stefan with her hate. One of the few completely pure and good things Stefan ever did was raise Nikolas to be a decent human being. You've made a lot of mistakes, Sam – as have I – but you've owned them and become a remarkable young woman, and you did that all without any of the benefits Nikolas had."

Sam clung to her mother tighter, willing herself to believe every word, wanting to erase every dark doubt lurking in her mind, as Alexis continued softly but intensely. "_You saved my life_, don't you know that? I didn't know how I was going to heal – and then I found out I was pregnant with you. Yes, at first I was scared, but – but then I had something to live for, something more important than my pain. I got to bring this wonderful little life into the world, even if I didn't get to keep it. You were my light in the darkness, Sam. I loved you then, and I love you now."

"I love you too," Sam whispered, and then there was no more need for words. They just held each other, mother and daughter, and Sam finally knew that she could endure the knowledge of her origins. Sam knew she was born of love – her mother's love. She was her mother's light in the darkness. That was all the truth she needed to know.

"Do you think you can forgive him? Stefan?" Sam asked, finally releasing her mother after what seemed to be quite a long time. Alexis' expression was difficult to read.

"Can you?"

"I … I think I already have." Her mother's eyes widened in surprise as Sam continued. "I'm just … I'm tired of being angry. I'm tired of bitterness, resentment. It's a waste of my energy. And I believe what he wrote in the letter. I believe he loves me."

Alexis shook her head. "You know, I have … I have never let any man have the kind of power over me that Stefan had. Emotionally, I mean. For a long time, he was my whole world. Sam, you know how much Kristina and Molly look up to you, worship you, adore you, want to be like you? Times it by a million, and that was Stefan and me. I was never so loved and protected … or so dominated and controlled." Alexis paused. "You know, it was a lot easier to embrace the idea of forgiveness when I thought he was dead. I just … I just wish he had let make my own decision! Sometimes I think he still sees me as a child in need of guidance." There was only a slight trace of bitterness in her voice. "I'm sure Nikolas would have a similar sentiment."

"Yes, I would."

The two women turned to see Nikolas standing awkwardly in the doorway. "I'm sorry, I uh … I haven't been here long, really. I apologize for intruding on what's obviously supposed to be a private moment. It's just I got this letter, apparently from Stefan…"

Sam smiled, standing up. "Me too." And then she explained about the bracelets, and showed them to him.

Nikolas examined them. "These are exquisite," he said. "Kristina will be back with tomorrow, I think you should present them to the girls then, Sam." She nodded, wiping away a few tears, and hugged her brother as Alexis stood up beside them.

"Anyway, I was going to say, I wasn't the only one who got a letter." Nikolas handed one of the envelopes he was carrying to Alexis. She took it, and could tell by its weight that there was something more than paper inside. He turned back to Sam.

"Sam, Spencer is asking for you. He says he can't go to sleep until you read him a story. I tried, but apparently I don't have a good 'story voice,' according to my son," Nikolas frowned, putting on a gentle tone of mock-hurt, and Sam chuckled softly.

"All right. Good night, mom." She hugged her mother once more. Nikolas pressed a kiss to aunt's forehead, and then they both left.

Alexis stared at the envelope in her hand for a long moment before opening it. When she finally did, she found what she was expecting: her Cassadine medallion, the one she'd flung back at him during their awful confrontation. She sat down on her bed, one hand clutching the medallion, and began to read:

_Dear Alexis,_

_I remember when I gave you this medallion. You were ten. I was sixteen. It was another joyless Christmas on Cassadine Island – well, joyless for us at least. As you may recall, there were usually at least a few token gifts for us from relatives amidst the barrage of presents lavished upon Stavros, and I do recall receiving some trifles – but there was absolutely nothing for you. Or so you thought. _

_Unbeknownst to you, I had asked Father several months ago to commission a medallion for you. I expected him to be reticent to the idea; after all, you were supposedly only a distant cousin, and such things were usually reserved for immediate family members, but he was surprisingly receptive to the idea. Do you remember? I led you away from the drunken festivities, an easy task, as we were perpetually ignored. Father was the only one who noticed us leaving. You didn't see, but he nodded ever so slightly at me, with something I fancy was an air of approval. I took you to the library, where we had spent so many hours reading together, our companionable silence occasionally punctuated by a sharing of ideas. I turned you to the mirror on the wall. I told you to close your eyes, and then I put the medallion around your neck. When you opened your eyes and saw what I had done, you actually laughed in delight. _"Like yours,"_ you said, your eyes bright with joy. I told you it meant that no matter what anyone else said, you were part of my family. I told you were my __sister, in every way that mattered__. I told you it meant we were bound together always. You turned and embraced me. It was the happiest Christmas I ever experienced as a child._

_Why do you imagine I indulge in such nostalgia, Alexis? You know I am not overly sentimental. To elicit your sympathy perhaps, to remind you of all we were to each to other, to strategically soften you to my pleas for forgiveness? Well, what can I say? I have always been manipulative. I have always controlled you, assumed I know what is in your best interests. How could I not? It came as natural as breathing. Controlling you was as easy as loving you. Sometimes I did not even realize what I was doing it. And of course, I was furious when you tried the same tactic on me, albeit in a more elaborate manner, with regards to Katherine. We have lived and loved together so long, taken on so many roles for each other – parent, protector, partner, teacher, savior, sibling, playmate, confidant, friend – how could the lines not blur between us? _

_You may feel I took you for granted; of course I did. You were the one person in my life that was granted. Your loyalty was unquestionable, your devotion unassailable – even when you railed against me, even when you were disappointed in me, even when everyone else believed the worst in me, you were, despite all your protestations, still on my side. I will never forget how you were the only one who knew I didn't kill Chloe. And then when I finally did cross that line, killing Summer in an attempt to kill Emily, to spare her a worse suffering at the hands of Helena – you were the one who didn't simply take my actions at face value. Even my precious Nikolas turned his back on me, believed the worst, but you dug deeper, and you saved my life._

_I had hoped to return the favor by saving your daughter. Helena had discovered the money I was siphoning off the estate for her sake, Alexis. I was afraid she was going to find out everything. That was part of the reason I made that devil's bargain with her regarding Emily. I wanted to spare you, both of you, the pain of the truth. I made a terrible, presumptuous, wrong decision, keeping you and Samantha apart. But Alexis, please, please understand my actions came from a place of love. I have loved you from the first moment I met you. You were the first person I ever loved who loved me in return. _

_I know, deep down, you sometimes resent how much you relied on me. I know all your gratitude to me must contain some glimmers of bitterness. Perhaps it will please you to know that I have needed you just as much as you needed me. Your devotion, your adoration, your belief in me as a person both worthy and capable of love – it sustained me during our childhood and beyond, as much as I hope my love and protection sustained you. Whether you forgive me or not, please know that I love you. I always have and I always will._

_We are bound together, my dear sister, my little one. Always._

_I love you with all my heart,_

_Stefan_


	24. Chapter 23

_*Author's Note: So glad people are still reading. Just FYI, this chapter is quite Stefan-centric. It's not over yet, but we're getting close. Enjoy!*_

Little Sister

Chapter Twenty-Three: Strange Alliances

_Milan, Italy_

Stefan Cassadine sat at a table by himself, slowly savoring a fine red wine as he finished his meal. It was a small but up-scale restaurant, one of the few places unmolested by tourists in this decadent city. After all these years, and he had come full circle, back to the place where his "downfall" had begun. He'd spent several years in the small New York hamlet of Port Charles, and many before that devoting his life to Nikolas, the "son of his heart." Then he had, with his family's blessing, set off to embark on a journey of self-discovery and reflection. He had decided to be selfish for once and stop worrying so much about everyone else.

It hadn't turned out as he'd planned.

Ideally, of course, Chloe would've been there with him. Even after all this time, he still thought of it as "her" city. Perhaps was appropriate. Had he dared to venture to Paris, he supposed his thoughts would have been filled with Laura. She always had a way of invading his mind and heart when he least expected it. It was part of the reason he'd hated her at times, even as he loved her. She never seemed to realize the power she'd had over him. Everything was intense, too intense where she was concerned. He knew he had been obsessed with her; perhaps part of him still was.

And yet … sometimes he wondered if it was not so much about who she was as what she had represented to him. She was as beautiful as the mother who had rejected him, but warm and close, not distant and frigid. She was as helpless as the little "cousin" he had adored and shielded her entire life, and as grateful for his protection as Alexis had been. She was as foreign and exotic to him as America, that distant land full of freedom and promise, a place in which people were not shackled by tradition. He still remembered those rare occasions during her time on the island when she would laugh, how the sound seemed of it seemed to change the very air around them, making everything bright and full of possibility…

It had been madness to be with her, he had known. A cautious person since childhood, sleeping with his brother's wife was by far the most reckless, careless, dangerous thing he had ever done. Had the affair been discovered, Stavros would at the very least have killed him – and perhaps even Laura as well, for all his claims of "loving" her. Though he himself may have been obsessed with Laura, he had done the one thing for her that Stavros had never been capable of: he had let her go.

Chloe was another matter entirely. He knew there were those who might have thought, might still think that she, like Katherine Bell, had simply been a substitute for Laura, the woman he had briefly possessed but never been able to hold onto. But it had been different with her. She stood outside the shadow of his past, even as he had told her things about it, things about his childhood, things that he had never shared with Laura or anyone else. He still believed he could have made it work with her.

Of course, at first, he'd only noticed her appearance – her lovely, heart-shaped face, her hair the color of sunlight, her slender yet curvaceous body – these were things that he could not help but appreciate as a man. But very soon, the attraction was far more than physical. He was at first annoyed and then intrigued by her relentlessly positive attitude, her stubborn determination, and the slightly teasing, almost flirtatious manner she would occasionally allow herself to display with him. For all her cheerfulness, her childhood had not been as idyllic as her attitude might lead people to believe – the nameless, faceless father who had abandoned her and never looked back, her overworked young mother who died before she became such a success in the world of fashion – and yet she still fought fiercely to hold onto whatever happiness life allowed her, refusing to be bitter over what she had lost.

Chloe had a remarkable capacity for seeing the best in people. She had even begun to forgive him for all the deceptions and manipulations he had visited upon her. He had held out hope that in time, she would come to love him as her loved her…

And then Stavros had killed her. He tried not to think about it, tried not to torture himself, but – had she begged him for her life? Had it happened quickly, or had his sadistic brother made her suffer? Had she called futilely for him to save her from the monster, like Alexis and Laura before her? Had she died cursing his name, blaming her for his fate – but no. That wasn't Chloe's way. She was too kind-hearted for her own good. At least Laura was still alive. Chloe had deserved so much more; she deserved a home, a family, and children, if not with him, then with someone else. Stavros killed her without a second thought, continuing the pattern of destroying people that his brother loved, this time making the person pay the ultimate price: their life.

And yet he had not managed to destroy everything. And for all his darkness, he had brought two lights into the world: Nikolas and Samantha.

How dearly he hoped Samantha understood that, believed it. How fervently he wished she would not let the manner in which she came to be drag her down. The Cassadine legacy was a heavy enough weight to bear on its own without the extra burdens of knowledge she now had to suffer. However, he had faith is his sister to see her through.

For all her reticence to vulnerability, for all the ways she tried to harden her heart out of self-perseveration (the same as he had done), Alexis had a great capacity to love against all odds. While she may have directed her romantic affections at unworthy men – Ashton, Corinthos, Lansing – her love for her children was absolute, unmarred by whatever she felt towards their respective fathers. Samantha would see that it was no different with her.

He would prefer to be among them, his family, instead of alone in a city where a woman long dead seemed to haunt him. He would prefer to be reassuring Alexis, to be teaching Molly Greek, to be guarding Kristina against the perils of adolescence, to be telling Samantha of all the surprising ways in which she reminded him of her mother, to be counseling Nikolas in the ways of single parenthood, to be helping to ensure that Spencer's childhood was an even happier one than Nikolas' own. But he had long ago resigned himself to not having what he wanted. He would settle for distance and hope for the occasional clandestine reunion. An imperfect, unsatisfying, but necessary compromise …

"Excuse me? Are you almost finished here?"

Stefan blinked and looked up at the woman who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. She had long, dark black hair, and a slender but muscular body, the curves of which were accentuated by a very tight red and black dress. Her eyes were dark and unfathomable, looking him over appraisingly as she waited for his answer, frowning slightly, one hand on her hip. He took in her cheaply alluring appearance and concluded quickly what type of woman she was; one who wore her sexuality like a shield, who saw it as her greatest tool to manipulate men and get whatever she wanted.

"I beg your pardon, miss …" He spoke in Italian, of course, but she noted the language did not trip off his tongue as fluently as it did her own, she who was practically a native. Her frown turned into a small smile. He wasn't quite as inconspicuous as he wished to be. Good.

She ignored the obvious invitation to supply him with her name, biding her time. "Look," she said, somewhat impatiently, "This place is packed, and we've been waiting for nearly half an hour, and you've been sitting here nursing that drink for almost as long, so not to be rude, but do you think you could –"

"We?" Stefan raised a brow at her. He looked over towards the entrance of the restaurant, where a man who seemed somewhat younger than the woman stood scowling, his eyes darting around the place, searching for threats both real and imagined. He was dressed in all in black. He made eye contact with the woman and frowned, shaking his head, but she held up her hand. His scowl deepened, but he shrugged in unhappy acquiescence. Stefan noted how much they looked alike. The woman turned back to him, smiling enigmatically, the smile of someone who thought she had the upper hand, the smile of someone who liked to play games.

What the hell? Two could play …

"I shall linger as long as I so desire. It makes no difference to me how long you and your …companion … have waited." He saw her eyes flare, her lips curling in disgust at the suggestive way he said "companion," struggling not to give herself away, and he allowed himself a small smirk.

"Are you always so rude?" She snapped.

"Are you?" He shot back.

Angry now, she sat down across from him, leaning forward in a manner which she much have assumed was menacing, her dark eyes glittering malevolently, switching seamlessly to English as she spoke.

"Let me tell you something, alright? You don't want to piss me off. I can make things very uncomfortable for you. I can let your enemies know that you're alive, along with your exact location, and then I can just sit back and enjoy while they take care of you. I know who you are … Mr. Cassadine."

It was clear she expected him to be shocked by the sound of his own name, and he was amused at her obvious displeasure when he remained impassive and unaffected. He inclined his head slightly, as if acknowledging a polite greeting and not an ominous threat, and he responded, following her lead and switching from Italian to English as well.

"I know who you are as well … Miss Zacharra … ah, my apologies, it's Mrs. Corinthos now, isn't it? The latest one, at least … though I don't imagine you will hold that title for long. One wonders how long it takes for a man to obtain a divorce in abstentia. Of course, he could have saved himself some time by simply disposing of you … remarkable he let you live, considering what you did to that unfortunate young 'son' of his."

Claudia's eyes narrowed and she scowled as she hissed at him: "Sparing my life is the least he could do, after his little bitch of a daughter ran me off the road and made me miscarry our child!"

Stefan stood up. "You will not speak of my niece like that!" He snarled, and for a moment, she looked almost fearful. He was aware he was making a bit of scene, but he did not care. "Do you know that she, along with the young man you put in a coma, begged Corinthos to spare your life? Do you think she is so unaffected by the tragedy her actions caused?"

Claudia stared up at him, incredulous. "You're … you're making that up. It's not true, Sonny is still looking for us …" Attempting to compose himself, aware of the curious murmuring of other patrons around him, he sat back down.

"Oh, but it is. I do my research, Ms. Zacharra. Do you not realize that Corinthos and his little lap dog Morgan would have found you by now? You are not as clever at concealing yourself as you'd like to think. You owe your life to my niece, at least in part, so I would say you're even in that regard. Though," he added, "Nothing can compensate for the loss of a child. You have my sympathies."

Claudia couldn't tell whether the last part was sincere or sarcastic. She decided she didn't care.

"Well," she said softly, "it appears we are at a sort of …" she searched for the right word.

"…Stalemate," Stefan finished for her, smiling. "After all, Corinthos is not the only man who would mind seeing you dead, is he? As I said, I do my research … and according to what I have learned, even your own father would not mourn your passing."

She flinched, and he felt a flicker of guilt. Even with someone as deadly as she, it had been rather low of him to bring that up. But her next words quickly erased that feeling, as she shot back: "And your own mother would not mourn yours, would she, Mr. Cassadine? Correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't she_ literally_ dance on your grave when she learned you had 'died'? I do my research too, you see," she added venomously, as he gave her a bitter smile.

"Ah yes. That's my mother. Always perverse." For a moment, he thought he saw a flicker of sympathy in her eyes, a sort of painful understanding, but she looked away before he could be sure, quickly lowering her gaze.

"You hear about some animals that eat their own young," she said softly, almost thoughtfully. "Sometimes I wonder if that isn't what people like your mother and my father are doing, slowly chewing up our souls and spitting them back out, shriveled and hollow."

"How gruesomely poetic," Stefan said. "I never realized you would have such a way with words, Miss Zacharra. Indeed, people like your father and my mother are a sort of poison, especially to their offspring. But I cut the poison out long ago."

"Did you?" She challenged archly, looking up to meet his gaze once again, no longer fearful of displaying vulnerability. "Don't you still fear her, the threat she poses to you and yours?"

"Don't you still fear your father?" He countered. "He is obsessed with your brother, is he not? Obsessed with passing on his legacy of madness and violence, wanting to mold his son in his own twisted image –"

"I will _never_ let that happen!" Claudia hissed. "John is ten times the man our father could ever be. He is kind and he is loyal and he is strong, he – " She broke off, a slight quaver in her voice, and Stefan looked away, allowing her a moment to regroup, surprising himself by the empathy he felt for her.

It was easier, much easier to simply think of her as shrewish and manipulative, than to be so forcefully reminded that she was capable of forming human attachments like everyone else. He knew all too well what it was like for two siblings to cling to each other during a dark and deadly childhood.

"If only someone would eliminate your father for you, my dear. Or … have you ever been able to fathom doing it yourself?"

Claudia shook her head, closing her eyes. "It'd never work. I'd do anything thing for John, even murder my own flesh and blood, but my father would see me coming a mile away. He knows me too well."

"Ah," Stefan said knowingly, "it's quite the same with my mother …"

Their eyes locked, and the instant realization, the solution to their parallel problems suddenly hit them both at the same time.

"Miss Zacaharra…" Stefan said slowly, "Do you suppose we might be able to come to a sort of…"

"Mutually beneficial arrangement?" Claudia was grinning now, giddy with the possibilities, nodding at him in agreement.

"There would have to be ground rules of course," Stefan added hastily, always cautious, loathe to allow himself to be carried away by their newfound, shared enthusiasm and common purpose. "We'd need to find away to trust each other, we'd need to guarantee the safety of our families…"

"John is the only one who really matters to me."

"Yes, well, unlike you, I have more than one person to worry about. Alexis and her daughters, Nikolas and his son …"

"Ah yes, Nikolas," Claudia's cherry-red lips curved in a feral smile. "I had the good fortune to … get to know him, once. He saved my life, and I was very … grateful." Stefan rolled his eyes at her obviously attempt to irritate him.

"I doubt he was interested in your sort of … gratitude. How do they put it? Oh yes. You're not his 'type.'"

She pouted. "Oh? And why not?"

"Well for starters, you're not blonde and helpless …" Claudia snorted.

"Um, no, definitely not. I still found him quite intriguing though, despite myself. But I suppose it's a trait you Cassadine men share. The sort of dark, brooding animal magnetism…."

"Spare me, Miss Zacharra."

"Claudia," she corrected him. "If we're going to be working together so closely, we should at least be one a first name basis … Stefan."

"Very well … Claudia," he conceded, and she grinned again. Turning slightly, she waved her brother over to their table. He glowered unhappily but still obeyed, approaching them slowly.

"You know," she said thoughtfully as they waited for him, "You're not what I expected. You're nothing like your goody-goody little sister." Stefan shook his head.

"If you really think that, then you do not know Alexis nearly as well as you imagine. You may think you have her pegged, my dear, but she can be as ruthless and deadly as any Cassadine before her. She has endured a great deal and will continue to endure, with a strength and dignity that you will never be able to fathom, because she will not deign to show it you. She is brilliant and relentless and stronger than even she knows. I would advise you _not _to presume to understand her." She didn't seem put off but the sharpness of his tone, but looked at him with another reluctant flaring of kinship, of understanding.

"You love your sister very much, don't you?" She asked softly. "I can understand that." Turning before he could respond, she smiled widely at the approach of her own sibling, who seemed to have an idea of what his sister was planning, and looked none too thrilled, but still resigned.

"John," Claudia fairly purred. "Meet Nikolas' uncle, Stefan Cassadine. He and I have come to a sort of … business arrangement, one that's going to be very, very beneficial for us all."

***

"I knew he was alive!" Molly fairly crowed in triumph as Sam explained the truth to her sisters.

"Oh sure," Kristina scoffed, "It's easy to say that now …"

"Sam, what about the bracelets? Can we see them please?"

Sam presented the bracelets to her delighted, elated sisters. She fastened the first one around her wrist, and then helped Kristina and Molly put theirs on.

"It's beautiful," Molly said dreamingly, "they're all beautiful. And the story behind all the jewelry, it's so …

"Romantic," Kristina mocked, imitating her sister in high-pitched voice.

"Hey!"

"What? Tell me that's not what you were going to say!"

"Girls," Alexis chided gently, though she could not keep from smiling. She looked at Nikolas, who nodded back at her, camera in hand. Sam, Kristina, and Molly sat on the couch, being careful to display their matching bracelets as they posed. Several shots later, Alexis joined them, and then Spencer and Nikolas, all of them surprised at how much they enjoyed taking the family photos.

"We can send the pictures to him, can't we?" Molly asked eagerly after they had finished.

"Yes, I think so," Alexis said, glancing at Nikolas. Stefan had entrusted him and him alone with his current location; she understood why.

"And we'll get to see him again, right?" Kristina added.

Alexis looked at Nikolas and Sam, who also seemed to be waiting on her answer. She had never told either of them if she had forgiven her brother or decided to harden her heart against him.

"Yes," she said, after what seemed a long time. "Yes, I think we will. I hope we will."

It was unnatural for her to hate Stefan, and she could never keep it up for long, it was too exhausting to try; the love was always there, underneath. It doesn't mean her anger has abated, it doesn't mean she'd ever fully forgive him, but if the bond they had shared since childhood hadn't been severed by now, she doubted anything will ever be able to break it. She only hoped the bonds her daughters were forming would be as strong, and without being tested the many times and ways hers and Stefan's had been.

All of them looked pleased with her answer; Nikolas and Sam especially seemed to let out their breaths in relief at the same time, each so very tired of grudges and bitterness and secrets and revenge.

"I want to write him a letter!" Molly declared happily. "Maybe I could even try and write in Greek… Nikolas, can you show me how?"

Nikolas chuckled. "One thing at a time, little one. One thing at a time."


	25. Chapter 24

Little Sister

Chapter Twenty-Four: Strange Alliances, Continued, or It is Not Over 

_*Author's Note: Well, here it is, the last chapter. Sorry to spring the end on you without warning, but in all honesty, I didn't realize I was writing the last chapter until about halfway through. It just seems like the natural place to stop … for now. Enjoy!*_

Sam hesitated before approaching the grave. During today's visit, and others before it, she'd visited several of the cemetery's final resting places, but never this one. So far today, she'd made her usual rounds: she always visited the grave of her little girl, speaking softly and reverently to her, sometimes crying a little, and she always at least paused at the grave of her adoptive brother, only slightly less often stopping to speak to him. Danny's status as mentally challenged had been both a blessing and a curse; a curse in that he would never be able to fully fend for himself, but a blessing in that he lived and loved with the simplicity of a child: open, honest, devoid of judgment and full of devotion. Less often, she visited the grave of the man she had known for most of her life as her father.

Today, she had lingered there much longer than usual. Cody McCall had certainly not been the best of men, but for a long time, he was the only parent she had known. When she first realized she was adopted, it explained so many things: why Cody always seemed to regard her as more of a 'pal' and co-conspirator than as his child, why he always referred to Evelyn by her first name when discussing her with Sam but said 'your mother' when talking with Danny, why he always told Sam not to let Evelyn's coldness bother her … looking back now, Sam wondered why she hadn't seen it before, hadn't thought to question things. She wished Cody had told her she was adopted; it would have made Evelyn's rejection of her easier to bear.

To be sure, Cody himself was far from the ideal parent, but compared to the cruelty of her "mother," at times the man had been a goddamn saint. For all the ways he had screwed up, and all the difficulties that had been between them, she knew that he had loved her on some level, even if they weren't blood. He had taught her a lot – how to read people, size them up, find their weaknesses (all the better to con them, of course), how to distance herself from pain, both physical and emotional, how to keep getting back up after being knocked down – and for better of for worse, he'd definitely shaped the person she was today. She couldn't deny that.

Beneath all her anger and resentment at his abandonment of her and Danny, she had still loved him. She had mourned his death, in her way. And if she had to think of someone as her father, Cody McCall was certainly better than the alternative…

Recognizing her thoughts were starting to go down a dark and pointless path, Sam turned her attention to the headstone in front of her, which read simply, "Kristina Cassadine: Beloved sister, aunt, and friend." She hesitated, and then kneeled down in front of it, taking a deep breath, nerving herself for her first "conversation" with the aunt who was her sister's namesake, and whom she'd never gotten the chance to know.

"Hi," she began hesitantly. "It's me, Samantha – Sam – and I … I guess I'm your niece. I'm uh … I'm sorry I've never really 'visited' with you, you know, it's just…" Sam paused, feeling slightly ashamed. After she'd found out Alexis was her mother, her entire focus had been on how it affected_ her_, without a thought given to how Alexis might feel. She had still hated her at that time, and blamed her for so much – the death of her daughter, the death of Danny – when neither of those things were Alexis' fault.

But she was in such pain, and all she could see was that Alexis seemed to have everything she did not; a husband, children, a career, stability – and she never even paused to contemplate that maybe she wasn't the only one who'd suffered loss. Alexis would have understood her grief for Danny better than she had realized at the time; she too had lost a beloved sibling, and here her remains had lain, all this time, and even after she'd known the truth, even after she and her mother had begun to bond and heal all the hurt, she'd never given this grave so much as a glance.

"I'm sorry," Sam said again, softly, a slight quaver in her voice, "I'm sorry I've never done this before, god knows I've been coming here for years." She shook her head, hugging her arms around herself to keep off the cold. "It's just … mom's never really talked about you, you know? At least, not until recently … I'm really glad she's started opening up to me more, though. At least something good comes out of knowing the awful …" she broke off, swallowed, and began again. "She says I remind her of you sometimes," Sam continued, smiling even as a few stray tears fell. "I have your smile and your manner, she says. It's really wonderful to hear her talk about you. I know you loved each other very much, even though you were separated most of your lives and only got to be together for a short time. And I know Uncle Stefan loved you too. I'm really sorry that my sisters and I never got the opportunity to know you. You'd be so proud of your namesake. She's beautiful and brilliant, like our mother. And then there's Molly; you'd be proud of her too. As for me, well …"

"She'd be proud of you too, Sam."

Sam turned and stood up to see her mother standing there, a bough of holly in her hand. She walked towards her sister's grave and lied it down there. She clasped her daughter's face lovingly, her smile equal parts tender and sad. Sam didn't quite know what to say.

"I wish I'd told her about you," Alexis said softly. "But I was ashamed of myself. It took me a long time to even realize my little sister existed – the trauma of watching my mother die made me block everything out – and then when I finally remembered … I was afraid. It was Jax who reunited us, you know. She was much braver than I was, and she'd been looking for me, and Jax found her and brought her back into my life. It's one of the many reason I will always love that man. I thought Kristina would hate me for not finding her, for forgetting her, but all she showed me was love." Sam listened, transfixed, as her mother continued on.

"Do you know she was the first person I ever even considered telling about you? I was so … so ashamed that I'd given you up, but I thought if anyone would understand, she would. I came close a few times, but I always lost my nerve. And then … then it was too late. It was too late for everything." Alexis shook her head, letting a few of her tears fall. "I bet she would've convinced me to find you like she found me. I should've told her. I'm sorry." Sam shook her head and hugged her.

"No, I'm sorry," Sam said, as they pulled apart. "I'm sorry I never visited her grave before now. And I'm really sorry I never had the chance to know her. You … you really think she would have been proud of me?"

"Of course," Alexis said, in a tone that left no room for doubt, "She would have been proud of you, and she would have loved you, just like I do. You know Sam, when it comes to grief, or other painful things, I'm sure you've noticed that I have a tendency to … well, repress. I never talked about your aunt much before, for the same reason I never told anyone about you for such a long time; it hurt too much. But you're not like that at all." Sam laughed softly and a little bitterly.

"No, I let myself wallow in my losses, I cling to my misery and pain – "

"No, not at all," Alexis said firmly. "That's Sonny's flaw, Sam. You're not like that. In our reactions to loss and pain, Sonny and I are at opposite ends, the two extremes. But you? You're actually on the healthy, well-adjusted middle ground." Now Sam really did laugh.

"'Healthy, well-adjusted?' Me? Oh come on …" she scoffed.

"It's true," Alexis said firmly. "You don't bury your pain, but you certainly don't wallow in it. You acknowledge it, you recognize that it's shaped who you are in a lot of ways, but you know you don't have to let it dictate who you decide to be. You keep your lost loved ones close to your heart without drowning in resentment at them being taken from you too soon. I admire that in you Sam, and I'll try to emulate it as much as I can." The fact that Alexis would aspire to a trait of Sam's that she herself lacked warmed her daughter's heart in a way nothing ever had. She smiled tremulously at her mother, feeling like her Aunt Kristina was there with them, watching over them both, and smiling her same smile.

"Maybe we could … come here together, sometimes? And visit Aunt Kristina? Maybe even bring the girls once or twice?"

Alexis nodded. "I'd like that. And we can visit your daughter, my granddaughter … and Danny, and Cody…" again, she caressed her daughter's face lovingly. She knew Cody McCall had been far from an ideal parent, but she was grateful her daughter had someone to think of has "father," other than …

Recognizing her thoughts were starting to go down a dark and pointless path, Alexis re-focused on the young woman in front of her.

"It's cold out here, honey, and it's supposed to start snowing again soon. Come back to Wyndemere with me?" Sam nodded and smiled. With one final glance back at the grave, they left the place, the spirits of the dead watching over them and guiding them home.

***

She watched them at the grave.

It wasn't fair.

They had a place to mourn, they got to find peace, but she never did. His body was lost to her, swept away by the current, desecrated by the water and its creatures, violated by all the elements of nature. And yet she still mourned him, mourned him all the more intensely because of it, a bitter and desperate grief, tinged with the madness that had been her birthright. Those eyes that had been so full of malice and insanity for others had only held compassion and love for her. She had felt no need to cling to the ever-fading memory of her mother, who died when she was so young, because he filled her mind and her heart and her life in a way no one had before him and no one ever would again. For the most part, he had kept her out of his plans, safely tucked away and living a relatively normal life in London, until the abduction of Helena and Luke Spencer, when he needed her help, and she eagerly obliged. Soon after she had been swept back "home" again, having done her part by luring them into a false sense of security, and despite her pleas to be more involved, she had remained sheltered and protected on the sidelines, frittering away her time with the rest of the city's high society, waiting impatiently for the day when he called on her aid again, or else, gleefully announced the victory in which she flattered herself she'd played a small part.

And now all of that was gone. His hopes and ambitions – _their _hopes and ambitions, she corrected herself, for if he wanted it, _she_ wanted it, and that was that – had been dashed, cruelly and brutally, his life and his love snatched from her like a screaming babe from the arms of its mother. And what she felt was no less than the primal rage of that wailing infant, unnaturally ripped from the only love it had ever known, but her fury was a million times more potent and dangerous than anything a mere child could muster.

She'd briefly considered desecrating the grave of Kristina, and the rest of their loved ones, but decided against it. Although satisfying in the moment, it would ultimately be a petty and empty act, besides which, she would be tipping her hand. And if there was one thing she had learned in all her years admiring, adoring, worshipping and emulating him, it was never to reveal too much too soon. No, her plan was more intricate, and more subtle, and the results of it, so long as she was careful, would prove to be infinitely more satisfying.

Yes, her plan did involve revealing a great deal to and forging an alliance with a sworn and hated enemy, but her options were severely limited, and she had been patient, allowing months to pass before seeking her out, planning their "meeting," and making sure the element of surprise would work in her favor. She had lingered in this cemetery long enough, contemplating the bitter injustice of it all. It was time to act. It was time to seek revenge.

Those fools – Alexis and her brats, Nikolas and his spawn, even the oh-so-wise Stefan who never seemed to truly die – they all thought it was over. But it was not over. It was _never _over, not as long as she drew breath.

She surveyed the graveyard one final time, contempt written all over her lovely face. Then she turned on her heal and strode away, with purpose, towards the flight that would carry her to the next phase of her plan.

She would have her revenge. She would destroy them all.

***

_St. Petersburg, Russia_

They "met" in the same country and city in which Stefan and Alexis had met for the first time in years – it was even the same church. She has always liked events in her life to have a certain symmetry, and this was no exception. His men, now her own, dragged the older woman in, bound and gagged, with a hood over her head to keep her from guessing her surroundings. Even in her advancing years she was still fierce, but for now, she had stopped struggling, probably considering it beneath her dignity. With a nod from her, the other woman's hands were untied, the hood removed, and the gag taken out of her mouth. The men gripped her arms warningly, but she shrugged them off imperiously, and with a nod from their new mistress, they did not attempt to grab her again. The older woman stared into the face of the younger one, angry but uncomprehending. She studied her opponent carefully until she finally recognized her features. The chocolate-brown hair swept up in an intricate, stylish up-do, the eyes of hazel hue that always seemed to change shades in difference lights and moods, the porcelain skin and the deceptively sweet-looking, heart-shaped face, the calm, cool demeanor….

"Mischa," Helena breathed, looking deep into the eyes of the woman who "nursed" her when she was held captive by yet another one of her husband's bastards. And then the questions came, sharp and pointed, more like demands than pleas. "What are you doing? Why have you brought me here? Who are you, really? Do you think you can do this and get away with it? I may have been too weak to fight you last time, but I warn you, my dear, I am – "

"Don't blame _me _for keeping you bed-ridden on that island, Helena," she said coolly in her crisp British accent, with just a hint of malice in her voice. "I may have had a hand in it, but you poked the snake, remember? He can hardly be blamed for striking back. It's instinct; it's in his blood."

"The snake is dead now," Helena reminded her, her lips curving in a vicious smile. A flash of pain flickered across Mischa's face before the unreadable mask slipped back into place.

"Ah, but you see, his venom lives on."

"You're his," Helena said flatly. It wasn't a question. "All that time … I should have deduced it. I should have known."

"Oh, don't blame yourself for not figuring it out. After all, you weren't quite yourself at the time … thanks to my ministrations," allowing herself to show some emotion, she gave Helena a small smirk that was as full of malice and madness as her father's. She hated Helena as much as Valentine had, but she knew the old bat would prove useful, so she could, with effort, put her feelings aside. "Like you, I've made quite a study of poisons and toxins. I might go so far to say we're evenly matched in that field."

"Oh, don't overestimate yourself, my dear…"

"And don't underestimate _me_, Helena. I brought you here without anyone knowing about it, not even your precious Nikolas. Though I doubt he would care if you disappeared off the face of the Earth." Helena flinched, and Mischa felt a petty sort of triumph. After a brief stay at General Hospital, the Prince had sent his grandmother to Switzerland to "recover," and had been far too busy dealing with the havoc wreaked by Valentine to bother checking up on her, which he only would have done to assure that she stayed put anyway.

"What do you _want_?" Helena was impatient now, tired of trading insults. Mischa considered toying with her for a while longer, but then decided it was time to oblige her and come to the point.

"I want to forge an alliance with you." Helena's eyes widened, and she threw back her head and laughed, the bone-chilling, maniacal laughter which would have scared anyone else, but Mischa remained stoic, impassive, until Helen stopped laughing and looked her in the eye.

"My god, you're serious, aren't you?"

"Why not? You forged a temporary alliance with Luke Spencer to escape the clutches of my father and I, did you not? Hated enemies though you were, you were able to unite briefly in a common purpose. You and I should be able to do the same."

"Oh? And what common purpose do you think we share?"

"Destroying your pathetic son, and all – well, for you, most – of those who love him."

Helena's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"Stefan is alive," Mischa revealed without preamble. Helena's reaction was as expected; she gasped, and then scoffed. She started to protest, but with a nod, one of Mischa's men presented her with proof – pictures – from one of Stefan's leisurely dinners in Milan. Helena looked at the pictures, staring, astounded but ultimately still wary.

"These … these could be doctored …"

"Oh, but they are quite real," Mischa assured her. "Think about it, Helena. What reason would I have for making you think Stefan is alive if he is not? Be assured, the photographs are authentic. Apparently, Alexis helped him fake his death."

Helena snorted derisively at the sound of her name. "That pathetic little mouse."

"Not so pathetic if she was able to fool you, I think," Mischa retorted sharply. She hated Alexis as much as the rest, but that didn't mean she wasn't able to admire her cunning. "But no matter. You and I can find him and kill him. And he would only be the start. Will you agree to an alliance with me?"

Helena looked back up at her, studying the younger woman intently. After what seemed a long time, she finally let out a breath and nodded. "Nikolas and Spencer are not to be harmed," she said sharply, and though Mischa nodded dutifully, their eyes locked, and they both knew their alliance would turn to ashes once they had eliminated all the rest – Alexis and her brats, the Spencers and their spawn – but for the time being, they could work together quite successfully.

Mischa held out her hand for the older woman to shake, and after a moment's hesitation, Helena took it, and their agreement was confirmed.

"Oh, but before we begin our plans," Mischa said, almost as if it were an afterthought, "I have another piece of information that may prove of great interest to you." Helena raised a brow.

"Oh? And what is that?"

Mischa grinned, a mad, malicious grin, and for the first time, Helena realized how much she looked like her father. "Well as it turns out, the lives of Nikolas and Spencer may not be the only ones you would like to see spared," she said smugly (for they were both pretending Mischa would honor that part of their agreement). "I know you value the blood of your precious Stavros above all else. You love his son, and his grandson, but I wonder … would you show the same devotion to his daughter?"

Helena's eyes widened. "Daughter? That's … that's impossible!" She stuttered. "There is only Nikolas, Stavros had no other children."

"Oh, but he did." Mischa's grin widened to Cheshire-like proportions. "You should have counseled him to stay away from the little mouse, Helena. After all, he never knew their true relationship, and for all your love of your darling son, you must concede he had a certain … predilection for unwilling women. The first daughter of the bastard Natasha is _his_, Helena, his just as much as she is hers. Samantha McCall is your granddaughter."

~THE END … at least until I decide to start writing a sequel. ;)~

_*Final Note: I have never been able to complete a fic this lengthy in any fandom. I credit my success to you, my dear readers, and your encouraging and insightful reviews. Special recognition goes to Soapdemon for always 'begging' for updates, to DavisFamilyFan for being inside my head, and to StefanChloeFan for letting me know I was not alone in lamenting what could have been for our beloved Mr. Cassadine. And of course, my deep gratitude to all of you for not giving up on this story during the months-long hiatus I took from it. Thank you so much!*_


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